I hate this time of the year

Christmas is over, and soon it'll be time to take down the Christmas lights and everything will become dark and dreary and there'll be nothing to look forward to. I know this is not a healthy way to look at things, but nonetheless it's how I feel.
I feel this way every year at this time.
November and December are the only two months of the year that I actually like. It's a time for candlelight, Christmas lights and anticipation.
After Christmas comes emptiness. This is especially true this year where I, despite my attempts, still feel as though Christmas came and went fairly unnoticed.
This is also a time for questioning where my life is going.
As always I make my same resolutions, which is to make this year count, to achieve my goals.
This year's goal is to write that book that I started last January but still have yet to finish. I have to finish it, since writing is the only thing standing between me and being a total loser.
Writing used to be only thing that I was good at. I use the word "used to", since I'm not sure if I'm still good at it. I don't even know what language to write in anymore. English or Swedish. My basic instincts tell me to write in Swedish but somewhere along the way the English language took charge of my verbal skills. Now I linger in some sort of language border land.
Regardless, the goal for this year is to finish that book, even if it kills me. It may very well turn out to be crap but at least I need to finish it.
I hate this time of year, because it's the end of Christmas, and a new time line is about it begin.
First there is January, which is ok, because it's still darkness and candlelight. Then there is February, which is saved by Valentine's Day.
However, then comes March, which royally sucks. I hate March, always has. It's like a cross between winter and spring and it's filled with grey days where you feel like you're going slowly mad. It's like you're a bear and you're waking from months of slumber in the darkness and you're faced with the real world.
Then comes April which isn't much better.
March and April are terrible months for me. I'm unstable and prone to depression and anxiety during these months. I much rather prefer constant darkness and hibernation to these months.
While November and December are by far the best months of the year, March and April are the worst, apart from September of course.
So you see, the best months are behind me while the worst months are to come.
The only thing keeping me going now are the promises to myself to make 2011 the most successful so far. I make this same promise every year. I suspect I do this to keep myself going in these troubled times.

Twilight Zone

I think I realized what may be a partial reason for why I've been feeling like I'm living in the twilight zone. It's probably because I've been working extra doing data entry and I work until fairly late in the evening, especially if there is overtime, which there often is this time of the year.
This job is incredibly repetitive. The same tasks, the same people, the same sounds and smells. This time of the year, it starts to get dark around 2:00pm, so most of the time you work with darkness pressing up against the windows, which only makes it all feel even weirder. However, it's weird in a kind of interesting way. I don't mean that the job is interesting, it's not, but after you've sat in front of that computer long enough with no daylight coming in through the windows you start to feel rather loopy. This is especially true after the day crew has gone home for the day and it's just us evening people left.
Once I was working quite a lot at this place, because it was December and I didn't have any translation work or any courses to teach. It was so repitetive that it started to become weird. When we had our dinner, the same postal truck would drive up to the front entrance at the exact same time, and the driver would do a donut in the exact same spot every day. That's only one example of how things would be almost exactly the same day after day. Finally I started to break out into hysterical laughter at things that weren't really that funny. When I get really bored or restless, or even anxious, I start to laugh hysterically. That's my thing. Always has been.
As boring as it is when things are always the same, there's also something amusing about it. It's so repetetive that it borders on bizarre, and I like bizarre. Bizarre inspires me. I become a mixture of hysteria, contemplation, amusement and sadness. All in all, not a bad combination.
I could never survive it without my trusty audio books though. I have been listening to Agatha Christie and Catcher in the Rye. Quite an odd combination. I start off with Agatha Christie and then switch over to Catcher in the Rye. Hercule Poirot and Holden Caulfield meet in my head.

Another reason that it might feel like the twilight zone is that it's very cold outside, -30, and it is almost impossible to be out there. One has to rush very quickly to and from the car. Forget taking a walk, since it hurts too much.
Add to this the fact that it's dark most of the time. Plus we're all busy either working or preparing for Christmas, or both. We're like bears that have temporarily awoken from their winter slumber but who don't emerge from their den but simply stay in there in a half asleep, half awake state.

This has got to be one of the oddest Christmases for me

I feel rather like I'm in the Twilight Zone.
I've been working quite a lot while trying to recapture the spirit of Christmas past. In other words, I've been trying to get this Christmas to feel like it did when I was younger. I know that technically it isn't really Christmas yet, but I've always found the week prior to Christmas Eve to be the best. When Christmas is really here it's almost over. There are a couple of precious days and then it's finished.
The anticipation is much better than the actual day itself.
I have tried to recreate my specific rituals. I have even managed to borrowed a VCR so that I can watch some of my old tapes that I used to watch at Christmas, such as my collection of Christmas episodes of sitcoms. I am enjoying this a lot.
After I got home tonight, I watched "Foul Play", because it's tradition for me to watch that movie a few days before Christmas.
I asked my dad to bring this little Christmas house out from its dark resting place where it's been living for the past 15 years. It's a small house made of wood, painted red, with white cotton on its roof and around it, to make it look like snow. It was made by someone in our family generations ago. You place a lightbulb inside of it, so that it lights up. It has two small rooms.
I was able to put it up this evening, and it's so neat. I had forgotten it since it was so long since I had it up.
So while I'm trying to recreate Christmas past, I am feeling so oddly disconnected, for no particular reason. Almost as though I'm in this vacuum. Although it's not an unpleasant vacuum by any means, it's still odd. Medication induced?
Some moments I am curled up on the couch like a content cat, purring away and enjoying every moment of this season. The next I am oddly morose and self-deprecating. It's bizarre. I suppose it's the season. Christmas brings with it too many expectations. Illusions of the perfect holiday. Life isn't really like what we imagine it will be. There is the discord between family members, my parents arguing, my mother throwing temper tantrums, something which is also a Christmas tradition in our family, and my stubborn, secret wish for a big, family Christmas, which I know is impossible, and a thing of the past. I wish I could get that thought out off my head. I do appreciate what I have though. A lot of people have no one to spend the holidays with. They're completely alone.
Tomorrow is the last day of work. The 23rd will be devoted to doing the last Christmas shopping and baking, and naturally, watching Beatrix Potter at 3:00pm. Another feature of Christmas past.
All in all, this is definitely the best time of the year.

I should remember not to judge people too quickly

I make snap judgements about people too often. I was reminded of that last night. I was working extra at this data entry place. I tend not to rub elbows with the people who work there, simply because it's not my style to socialize much. I'm pretty much a recluse here in this town. I wasn't in Vancouver, but I am here. For some reason I find people here rather hard to talk to. We don't have much in common.
Anyway, when I work side by side with the same people a lot without really talking to them, apart from saying hi and goodbye, I start to pigeonhole them. I'm all for relying on my first instincts about people, since I think that they do tend to be correct most of the time. However sometimes I make unfair judgements of people based on what they look like or how they dress. I'm sure a lot of us are guilty of that from time to time.
Anyway, last night I realized that I have most likely misjudged this one guy who also works extra at this place. He is full of tattoos and dressed rather shabbily and has a mean looking face. Yet he is one of the few people who work there who actually always says hello. It's not the friendliest place in the world. Despite his rather obnoxious appearance, he actually seems to be a very nice, caring person.
This is my point. I made a snap judgement and sat there and felt irritated by him for so long, like I do with a lot of people I don't know, and all along he was a nice person. I must admit that the main reason I've had a change of heart about him is that I was eavesdropping on his phone conversation. Well, it was pretty hard not to hear what he was saying since he was sitting next to me and wasn't shy about what he was saying. It was rather personal. The details aren't important, the point is the way he acted on the phone. Class act. Caring.
So, I should make it a point not to be so hasty in my judgement, and not to be so pissed off and irritable when it comes to other people.

The tree is up!

And it beautiful. It's smaller this year and even though it's fake, it's almost nicer than the real trees we've had previous years. It's just the right size.
We went with silver, gold and a little splash of red in there.
Last night while I was working, my friend called me. This friend has been sick for a while and is particularly pain-ridden at the moment. As a result she hasn't been able to bake anything for Christmas. So I asked her what she missed the most, and decided to make it for her that very same night when I got home.
However, in the grocery store on the way home I suddenly started feeling really ill. I felt as though I was going to throw up or faint, or both. It was awful to walk between the shelves in a panic trying to pick up everything I needed and make a quick exit. I can't think of anything more embarrassing than hurling chunks in a grocery store. Well, I'm sure there are things that would be more embarrassing but throwing up would be up the on the scale of awkward moments.
Anyway we got out off there and drove home and the minute I got in the door I ran to the washroom and threw up. We're talking cascade vomit here.
For the rest of the night I laid on my bed, trying not to move, since when I did I felt sick again.
This morning I was fine though and was able to bake for my friend and her family.
I made saffron buns, chocolate cookies and gooey chocolate cupcakes. It felt good to be able to deliver it at her doorstep.
It's been a pretty good day all in all. Decorating the tree is always great. Or rather, afterwards is awesome, when the tree is finished and all sparkly and special and you get to lay on the couch and take it in.
An added plus was that we were able to borrow a VCR for the holidays, and I get to watch my beloved old Christmas episodes of T.V shows such as that horrible, old soap Santa Barbara. It's corny but I love their Christmas episodes from the 80's. It may be plastic but there is a certain odd sincerity there, maybe even a grain of wisdom, if that is at all possible for soaps. I don't really know if that's really true or not and I don't really care. The point is that they put me in the Christmas spirit and it's tradition.

Grandparents

My paternal grandparents are unfortunately deceased. My grandmother passed away in 2006. Christmas hasn't been the same without them. For me, Christmas is almost synonomous with them. For some reason, I miss them very much this year. I've been thinking about them a lot lately.

They lived around an hour outside of town, and rarely came to town to visit us. It was mostly us visiting them.
So you knew that when they did come to our place, it was a special occasion. It was almost something holy. Hearing their voices in our place was really something.
I had this annual Christmas Eve tradition growing up, I would take a long bath with either scented oils from the body shop or some funny bubble bath. I clearly remember this bottle of bubble bath in the shape of Fozzie Bear from the Muppet Show.
There'd be incredible excitement in the air, because it was Christmas Eve, the best day of the whole year.
I'd be in the bath, trying to casually read a book or comics, in an attempt to contain the feverish butterflies in my stomach.
All of a sudden, the front door opens and I could hear those familiar voices. They never used the door bell because that was simply not done in the village where they lived and certainly not when you were visiting family members.
Now that the grandparents had arrived it became impossible to stay in that bath one more minute. Although I would force myself to stay in the tub for just a few more minutes anyway, just so that I wouldn't appear too anxious.
Calmer, more restrained kids were the ones to receive more approval in our family.
I definitely didn't belong to this category.

My grandfather would be sitting on a chair next to the window in the kitchen, smoking a cigarette. This was before smoking inside and around children became a big no-no.
He would always talk about what traffic had been like on the roads.
My grandmother was more laid-back. She would sit at the table. Her short hair was curly, either from her last perm or from hair curlers.

Then we had coffee and cakes and cookies. Sometimes my father's aunt and her family would join us, in which case everything was even more thrilling. I loved it when we were all together. It meant it was a special occasion indeed. Just having the grandparents there was a big deal.

My grandpa would always tease me in the same way every Christmas Eve. At least three times he would ask me, in this very teasing voice, if I was nervous and excited about the Christmas gifts. He'd say my face was white with excitement. Which it most likely was, but of course I'd vehemently deny it and get angry about the mere suggestion of it. As I got a little older I developed a new strategy of answering calmly and casually instead of getting mad.

Then as I got older, he continued to tease me in the same way. It wasn't until I was in my mid-twenties that he stopped. Soon after he that he passed away. At the time, when I was a kid, his joking would annoy me, since I always tried so hard to appear nonchalant and cool about the presents. Now I miss it, oddly enough. I simply miss their presence.

It's just not the same without them. It's like something is still missing after all these years. This year I'm being very nostalgic.

Sometimes the numbness wear off

And I'm reminded that I really do feel like crap most of them time.

I should be more appreciative. I have do have it pretty good compared to a lot of other people.

So then why is it that I can't shake this?

I was feeling fine all day, even perky almost. Now suddenly I did a 180. Maybe it's simple fatigue. I've been really tired lately, all the time. I sleep around 8-9 hours a night but yet I'm still always tired. It's not that I sleep too much. It's a different kind of tired. Sometimes I get so tired of myself.

I think I best be off to bed.

On a mission to find the Christmas spirit

I'm on a quest to locate that Christmas spirit that seems to have gone missing in the last few years. I need to start creating new holiday traditions instead of relying on old ones. In order to help me along the way, there are a few things that are essential and that I simply cannot relinquish.

Number 1 tool in quest for Christmas spirit: Candles- And lots of them. There will be candles everywhere in this apartment. A room can look crappy, messy or bare, but when you light a few candles in it, it makes all the difference in the world.

Number 2 tool in quest for Christmas spirit: Baking - The joint will smell like a truck transporting cinnamon just collided with a vanilla truck, and the cargo busted open and mixed in the wind. An added plus will be bringing some to a friend's house on Christmas Eve. Yes, how homespun and nice is that!

Number 3 tool in quest for Christmas spirit: The Christmas tree - Which has yet to be purchased. This year we're going for an artificial tree. We've had real trees the previous years we've lived here but every single year it just makes me so sad I can't stand it. To chop down a tree, bring it into our house, decorate it and then suddenly throw it out so that it can lay there abandoned and await a slow death. No thanks! However, a Christmas tree is essential. No Christmas without it. While I decorate it I plan to have Christmas music playing in the background, which brings me to number 4...

Number 4 tool in quest for Christmas spirit: Christmas music - Particularly "Oh Holy Night", "Silent Night" and "The Christmas Song", the Nat King Cole version.

Number 5 tool in quest for Christmas spirit: The movie "Foul Play" and "The Tales of Beatrix Potter". I know that the former sounds like an odd choice of Christmas movie, but it's actually an ancient tradition of mine. Coincidentally, "Foul Play" was shown on T.V around December 21st a few years in a row when I was a kid. I watched it with the freshly decorated Christmas tree in the same room and the smell of my mom's hyacinths, which she always put out in the living room for Christmas. Now, this movie has become synonymous with childhood Christmases, and I make a point to watch it around December 21st, with hyacinths on the coffee table. As for "The Tales of Beatrix Potter", this ballet was on T.V every December 23rd when I grew up, and I always used to watch it. It would be on around 3:00pm, and it would be getting very dark outside. The coffee table would be filled wit nuts and clementies, and wonderfully smelling hyacinths of course. While my parents were either out Christmas shopping or my was cooking, I would be lost in the fantasy world of Beatrix Potter, all the while keeping a watchful eye on the presents that had by now appeared underneath the tree.

Number 6 tool in quest for Christmas spirit: Hyacinths!

More may be added as we get closer to Christmas, and I get more in touch with my Christmas muse. I think a definite theme here is childhood. Never do we enjoy Christmas the way we do when we're kids. It'll never be the same again but one can at least try and recapture some of it.

Showing legs for charity

When I was at one of the two teenie weenie malls here today, I saw these heavily made-up girls wearing nylon stockings and red sweaters, asking for donations to some charity. Actually whether or not they were asking for donations is debatable, since they seemed more engrossed in gossip than charity. No doubt for them this was more about dressing sexy and getting a lot attention than collecting money for charity. I can't blame them. In this town one has to grab whatever opportunity comes along.
Is it me, or does it seem inappropriate to dress up some girls like skanks and let them parade around the mall? Why do they have to dress like skanks? Will people donate more then? If that's the case, there's something terribly wrong here. Do people need to some and makeup before they give money to charity? Is that how evolved our society is?
I suppose so. Screw women's lib, right?

P.S. I hate this town sometimes. I truly do. I wish I could pack up my parents and my belongings and leave. I have a love/hate relationship with this place. I will always have my roots here and I love its nature and clean air but if it wasn't for my folks living here I would leave and not come back.

Is Christmas almost here again?

It's not as though it's snuck up on me. I knew it was coming. I was looking forward to it, as I always do. But now that it's actually almost here I don't feel it, as always. I feel even less this year. I suppose that's because as usual these days we don't have any plans for Christmas. It'll be the four of us again, well five counting Kelly. It all centers around Kelly since she's the closest thing to a child we have. We watch as she opens her presents, with a little assistence. I put a big red bow around her neck on Christmas Eve, so she can look all nice and christmassy. When we eat she gets a special Christmas plate too.
It's a bit sad, how things have changed over the years. Christmas should be different from all the other days of the year. It should be a big deal. It should be boisterous, yet peaceful. Small and intimate is nice, but not all the time. Sometimes you want big, loud family events.
I know circumstances have changed for our family. It's just the four of us now, and I've accepted that because that's how it is. Life is full changes. It can't all stay the same forever. It changes for us all of us.
This time of year it feels a bit empty though.
I've been watching "National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation", because it's a December tradition for me, and also because the movie centers around a big family Christmas, crazy though those family members may be.
I'm living vicariously through movies and T.V shows this Christmas. At least that's the plan.
When you think about it, it's a bit odd that we don't celebrate this event with our friends. I did one year. The one year I spent Christmas in Vancouver, Nick and I had some friends over. It was different from what I was used to, but nice. Peaceful. Peaceful is nice.
Often, we're closer to our friends than we are to our relatives, yet when it comes to the big holidays we spend them with our relatives.
We don't anymore. Hence the small gathering.
Anyway, Christmas isn't about large gatherings is it. Christmas is going to come whether or not you have a gathering of 20, or a gathering of 1. When I was a kid, there was nothing worse in my mind than spending Christmas Eve alone. I never felt so much pity as I did for those that spent Christmas on their own. I still think it's quite sad, even though some people actually choose to be alone.
Anyway, I will try to get more into it. I plan to bake and make the place smell wonderful and look really cozy the day before Christmas Eve.

Invisible?

Do you ever have times when you feel like you're the invisible woman/man? When you feel like you're talking to yourself? Sometimes I wonder why I even bother.

A lurking cold

It started with a somewhat scratchy feeling in my throat on Thursday evening, together with dry lips and some general discomfort. Then I couldn't sleep properly that night and felt very tired and a bit achy on Friday morning, so I called in sick.
Now it's been 24 hours and I'm still waiting for whatever this is to actually break out. I still feel like one does in that awful before-stage when you just realize that you're coming down with a cold and all you feel is a tickle in your throat and a some body aches. That's the worst. I'd much rather have the actual cold than linger in the before-stage, not sure whether it's a cold or my imagination. Having a cold is not that bad. In fact I've been hoping that I'd get one. Being sick in December is really cozy. You get to curl up on your bed/couch with the Christmas lights in the window and lay there and comfortably drift in and out of sleep as the sun sets behind snow-covered tree tops. And, this one has nothign to do with Christmas, you get to medicate yourself with painkillers that make you feel comfortably drowsy and at ease. There's something about waking up from a nap and realizing you have fever-induced chills, and getting up with a blanket wrapped about your shoulders and making yourself a big cup of tea with honey and downing some extra strength tylenon, then going back to bed with about 3 blankets to watch some T.V, and then within 15 minutes start to feel warm and secure, as if those pesky chills were never there. That transition between chills and warm and secure is very enjoyable. That warm feeling that suddenly comes creeping and starts to work its way through your body.
There are definite perks about having a cold. As long as it doesn't get too unpleasant, it's quiet nice. I think we all need it at least a couple of times a year. Two times a year to retreat from the world and the pressures and enter this snug, secure little world of blankets, honey, cough drops and old T.V shows. At the end of these bouts I usually feel so relaxed and at at ease. A bit reluctant and scared, yet ready to enter the real world again.
Anyway, at this time I feel like I'm still in the before-stage. That's how it's been lately whenever I get a cold, like it doesn't really break out. It's like a tickle in my throat and some fatigue and that's it. No fever. I wish it would just break out and be done with it. Am I sick or not?

In soap opera land, single is a dirty word

It's the same tired storyline on The Bold & the Beautiful over and over again. I watched it for years, when I had the opportunity, since it's in such an impossible time slot in Vancouver - 12:30am. Now that I live in Sweden I have the opportunity to watch that drivel if I want to since it's on in the evening here. Do I want to? No thank you! Even when I have nothing to do I still don't tune into B&B.
I find that I don't have much patience with T.V shows these days. The only show that I can bare to watch consistently is Desperate Housewives. I watch the sitcoms whenever they're on when I happen to have nothing else to do, but I never actually turn on my T.V just to watch them, unless it happens to be MASH re-runs.
If a show pisses me off, I'll immediately stop watching. I watched one single episode of CSI and I was disgusted with its graphic violence. I've never watched it gain and I don't intend to if I can help it. I don't care if it's supposed to be all realistic and clever, I don't want to see it. What happened to the good, old under-stated cop/detective shows such as Cagney & Lacey and Magnus P.I, who relied more on dialogue and character development and plot than graphic violence? The one upshot about CSI is that red-headed character played by Marg Helgenberger. I don't know what her character name is but I really like her tough, no-nonsense character. I love to see a strong female character.
B&B finally got to me with their monotonous storyline of Brooke, Ridge, Stephanie and Taylor. It's been 20 years. Time to let it go. It's not interesting anymore. How many times you can see women calling other women whore and slut before you finally get enough. It's insulting to hear those words being thrown back and forth. I personally don't really enjoy cat fights. It's just tedious and irritating. It would be nice to see strong women who won't crumble into a pit of despair whenever they find themselves without a relationship for 5 minutes. It would also be nice to see women be supportive of each other in soaps. And when will men be called sluts? The character Ridge has been married about a hundred times and slept with God knows how many women on the show, he's never once been called a whore or a slut.
American soap operas turn women's lib back 50 years. Look at the picture above of the tired trio. The man is promiment in the foreground, larger than life, like a King out of some fairytale kingdom, while the two women who constantly battle over him are lurking behind him.

Calling all males out there

It's not as daring as it may seem. It's just that I've been reflecting over something today. Christmas is approaching and apart from a few people, nobody has expressed any happiness over this fact, or even reflected on it.
For me, my November and December are pretty much filled with anticipation, although for the life of me I don't know why since I don't actually enjoy the actual Christmas anymore, only the cozy feeling I get when I get to put up the Christmas decorations and enjoy candelit evenings on the couch with my favourite Christmas movies.
Christmas Eve in our little household consists of 4 adults and one dog. The peace and quiet is nice on one hand, however I do miss the large family gatherings that used to occur when my grandparents were still alive. Now the family has scattered and each household celebrates on their own. I better get hop to it and have some kids of my own so it's not so quiet and empty on Christmas. I can't imagine any better way to spend Christmas than to make it magical for my children.

Anyway, that's beside the point. The topic today is whether or not any men out there like Christmas. So far, I can't recall ever hearing one single man say:
"I'm so excited about Christmas almost being here!"

The reason for that is probably that most men don't gush like that. However I haven't so much as a:
"I like Christmas"

Is it that men don't care whether it's Christmas or not or is it that they simply don't express it?

I don't know if any men read my blog or if any of them will read this post but if you do, can you tell me if you like Christmas?

Reclusive me

I've been preaching about independence to a close friend lately, and how good it is to be self-reliant and not be so dependent on other people. I've explained how much better I've become at letting go of relationships that aren't healthy or aren't giving me anything. The other day she commented on my being cold, whereas she's more passionate. I realized that I must have expressed myself wrong.
I haven't become cold, rather I think I've matured enough to rely more on myself for company. I think this happens to a lot of people with time. Rather than depend upon those around me for happiness, I've managed to find it within myself. Well, happiness is too strong a word, since that's something I've yet to achieve. Contentment is a more appropriate description.
The other week while I was on the Skytrain I peeked at the book this girl sitting in front of me was reading. It was clearly a self-help book. I didn't catch the title but on the page she was reading it said in bold letters: "If you rely on other people for happiness you are giving them power over your passion". I may have gotten the exact words wrong, but that was the general message.
This sums up what I have been trying to convey to my friend. It's not that I've become emotionally cold, it's that I don't need to constantly surround myself with people in order to feel good. In fact, I'm almost too much of a recluse, and that's not always a good thing. In part, this recent change is due to a newly discovered independence, but part of the mixture is also a dose of apathy. I have felt rather lethargic the last couple of years and it feels more comfortable to just withdraw into my apartment and not have any plans with anyone. Plans means having to get up off the sofa or the bed and put on presentable clothes and makeup, and lately that's become more and more of a chore. It's not healthy. I know I'm probably depressed, but I honestly don't know how to fix it.
Anyway, that's a different issue. The issue at hand here is self-reliance. Regardless of whether or not my recent independence is due to a depression or apathy, the point is that part of is because I've matured. Believe me, I'm as stunned as anyone else who knows me must be. Maturity was never my strong suit. It still isn't. However, I have become more confident in myself and more capable of keeping myself company. I enjoy doing things by myself, such as going shopping, going to see a movie, going to the gym, the museum, what have you. I love that I'm calm and able to think, and not have to feel like I have to entertain or make conversation. It makes me more able to really take in and reflect on what I see and do. Also, it makes me feel so much freer than I did before when being alone made me anxious. I have always been a loner but before it was more because I didn't have a choice, because I didn't have many friends and didn't know how to make any new ones.
Now I make new friends but I don't need to see them all the time and don't sit around and wait for the phone to ring like I used to. I revel in those days where I have no plans or obligations and can just enjoy the day as I choose. That's not to say that I don't need to have friends, I do. But I also need myself and my own time just as much. I have the power over myself these days, as opposed to before when I allowed other people to define my existence.

Is Vancouver still my beloved Vancouver?

I'm back in Vancouver, for now, and despite an aching back and extremely tiresome jetlag it's nice to be back. I have to say though that I'm a bit spoiled with living standards now, and everything just seems a tad run-down to me. I'm not used to the great distances either, and I keep miscalculating how long it takes to get downtown. What I'm enjoying the most is the food. Every meal I've had out so far has been very tasty. It is so nice to have some variety again instead of just uppity fillet mignon with potatoes on the menu. One is able to go to a regular restaurant and have a meal sized salad. The other day I had a salad consisting of greens, blueberries, almonds, cranberries and goat cheese. My whole body let out a grateful sigh.
I do wish that I was more mentally present. I've been so dazed and confused that I feel like I've regressed about 20 years when it comes to social skills. Wish I had more time. So little time, so many things I want to do and so many places that I want to visit.

Then there is the non-stop rain that is Vancouver. Raincouver. Oh well, I knew it would be like this before-hand. It always is this time of the year.

Oh, and I finally got to visit my beloved Purdy's and buy a small bag of heaven. They wore those neat, little white gloves when they served me as well. It was expensive but so worth it. 5 years of longing for that chocolate. It sounds pathetic but it really is spectacular.

It has been great to see my best friend. Just wish we had more time together.

All in all, I'm not sure I'm really as in love with this place as I once was. Even before I left I was able to recognize and acknowledge its downsides, and I still do. Regardless, I still do want to buy a house here and settle down.

Anyway, enough for now. I'm using dial-up. Blast from the past!

The things you see when you take a walk

I was out walking with Kelly this morning. We started out by walking through the tiny forest here in the residential area. Kelly enjoys it because there is a lot to sniff and I release the flexi leash so she has 6 meters of freedom.
There it was, in the middle of the trees and bushes: a chair with the seat missing, a toilet paper roll hanging on a branch next to it, and some used toilet paper underneath the chair. Obviously someone created their own little outhouse right there in the middle of a residential area. As far as I know there aren't any homeless people here, but I suppose you never know. It could be some kids that like to hang out there and drink. Whoever it was, I think it was quite an ingenious idea actually. Very resourceful. Amusing, seeing how it's located about 10 feet away from the road. Amusing and odd. I like odd. Odd is very appealing to me.

As we emerge out of the tiny forest and hit the pavement we encounter the usual glass shards from people breaking bottles and the glass on bus shelters. This is not so appealing, especially not if you have a dog and the dog cuts up its paws. I just don't understand it. What is so amusing about breaking glass? This is a global fascination, and I do believe it's a male thing. For some reason, younger guys find this so cool. Spending your Friday and Saturday night getting hammered and going around throwing empty beer bottles or vodka bottles on the ground must be the ultimate kick. Even more exciting is tackling a bus shelter and smashing its glass so that the entire pavement is covered in shards for people and animals to step in. You know you're really living when you do that! It's right up there with doodling nonsense on walls and public property. How cool! We're all so impressed.

As we move on we walk past an empty ketchup bottle that's laying on the ground. Did someone sit there and just squeeze the stuff right down their gullet and then toss it aside when it was empty?

At 11:00am the church bells rang, and once again this heathen did not attend service. I always tell myself around Christmas when I attend Christmas mass that I should start going to service more often, but then I never do. Not that I believe that God exists only in church, but it can be uplifting to go.

I didn't see it this time, but I used to walk through this tunnel where somebody had cleverly written on the wall: "I piss here". I thought that was rather ingenious too in its own, crude way. It might be childish and I hate public urination, but that somebody would write that on a wall is amusing.

By the way, at this supposedly fancy party I went to on Thursday, guests were standing outside urinating on the wall. There were perfectly good washrooms inside but for some reason they felt they needed to piss outside. And not just on the ground, but on the wall! Why the wall? It's much less likely to wash out with the rain there. If you're going to piss outside, at least do it on the ground. But no, guys do it on the wall. It just goes to show, no matter how much money they earn or how advanced they are in their career, give a guy a few drinks and he'll show you that he's just as much of a bozo as the next person. Deep down we're all animals controlled by the id lurking underneath the surface.

Happy Birthday to me

Celebrated my birthday today. It was the same as every year. Baking during the day and some friends coming over at night. Amazing sandwich cake. Sandwich cake is one of those incredible inventions. I could live on the stuff!
Pretty small affair, which is how I like it. It's okay. Comfortable. Every year though I dream of doing something radically different, such as renting a hot air balloon and having a spa day, or even taking a trip somewhere like London or New York, or somewhere warmer like Greece. Never happens though. It's way out of my budget. This is a lean time of year for me, financially. It would be nice though. At the very least I'd like to go bowling on my birthday, but for some reason this never happens.
Is it such a big deal anyway? It's just turning one year older, which by now isn't really a reason to celebrate. Do we even stop to ponder why we celebrate? I feel about 10 years younger than I really am. I never really grew up, at least I took my time to reach the maturity level I'm at right now. When I was 20 I was still living at home and had never even had a boyfriend and thought that growing up was a fate worse than death. Starting from the age of around 15 and onwards I was afraid of adulthood. I wanted to remain a child, yet still get the respect and acknowledgment that an adult would get. I wanted to be recognized as an adult but still stay a kid. The truth was of course that I was still just a kid, regardless of what I thought.
Oh to be able to turn back time and go back 20 years. I'd do so many things differently. 20 years ago I was still a kid and still had time to buckle down and study and choose a proper high school program. Man, if I ever have a kid like me, I'm going to make them study and aim high for their future. They're not going to be allowed to just drift along like I was. The only thing I had going for me was my writing. I barely even cracked open a book during my elementary school days. I realize now that how you start out really does effect your life decades later. Had I been more ambitious and studious and more self-confident I probably would have studied while in elementary school, and gotten into an academic high school program rather than a practical one. Instead I didn't discover the joys of learning until university. Oh well, you can't change the past. Maybe whatever happens is meant to happen. I read somewhere that "everything is as it should be". Wise words.

I'm less cranky now

I was cranky when I wrote my last blog. I had had too much to drink, the results of an open bar I suppose. I hadn't eaten dinner either, which probably didn't improve things. However, the message of my latest entry still stands. I meant what I wrote, even though I might have expressed in an angrier tone than I normally would. On the other hand, what's wrong with some anger? Isn't writing supposed to contain our true feelings? I hate how civilized I've become lately. I sometimes wish I could be 18 and totally clueless of how people perceive me again. I'll try to make it a point not to be so cautious with how I express myself. Not everyone has to agree with my opinions.

Went to a stupid party

It was a launch of a new venue for a company. Open bar, loud as hell and full of annoying people. The only two people I felt drawn to were two Chinese guests. I'm more of a Vancouverite than I had realized.
I tripped and fell over some speaker stands, as I was walking underneath the stairs. It was quite embarrassing. A couple of skanky looking women laughed at me. I should have asked them what was so funny but I was too busy collecting my pride. My elbow and knee also hurt.
I really don't like Swedes. I have such a hard time with them. I think I was supposed be born in a different country but was born here by accident. Glassy eyed women who on the surface appear to be classy and posses an icy veneer of beauty, but who are in fact just as skanky and one-dimensional as your regular North American skank. Those Swedes who claim Swedish girls to be so much more full of substance than North American girls are grossly biased in their judgment.
Then there are the men, who are equally skanky and empty. They need at least 4 drinks before they're able to muster up the courage to give a girl a provocative glance, and even when they do it's a pathetic look across their beer bottle. Tattered jeans hanging halfway down their ass and some dingy shirt, a lame hairdo and a lousy attitude... take me now! Yeah!
Man...there's a reason for why I didn't get a boyfriend until after I left Sweden.

Superpowers

If I could have any superpower I want I would like to be able to flap my wings and fly like a bird. I often dream this, that I am able to just flap my wings and take off. Often I fly really high up, but for some reason I have to flap my arms really hard in order to get up and actually stay up. In these dreams I'm often running from some assailant, and flying is my way of escaping. Wouldn't it be cool to really be able to fly. It must entail such a sense of freedom. In the dreams it's a mixed feeling because I'm often afraid of the height when I get really high up there but at the same time it is so empowering.

Another super power that would be empowering is being able to move objects with your mind - telekinesis. I've been watching "Charmed" from the beginning lately, only the first few seasons though since I think it jumped the shark when Prue died. I don't normally go for these types of shows but there's something so fascinating about superpowers, particularly when it involves females having them. I can just imagine having telekinesis and being attacked by some asshole while walking alone outside at night, and surprising him by throwing him on his ass 50 feet. If I had the ability to move objects with my mind I'd walk the streets late at night hoping to get attacked just so I could dropkick my assailants. It would be my pleasure to rid the streets of raping vermin. How cool it would be if all of us women could have this superpower, so that we women could walk around like free human beings and not have to feel afraid to go out by ourselves at night.

Oh well, in the absence of superpowers I guess we'll have to settle for martial arts.

I come down a tad too hard on Sweden

I know I criticize Sweden and Swedes a lot. Sure, there is a lot here that I don't like, but my irritation has more to do with me than anything else. It's not Sweden I'm angry with, it's myself, for moving back here. Things were just fine when I was living in Vancouver. I had a whole other appreciation for my native country as long as I didn't have to live in it. My anger now is more about me and less about Sweden. It's not a bad place to live, in fact it's pretty great if you compare it to a lot of other places. It's just not my place. I may have been born and raised here but I never really felt like I fit in. I began picturing myself living in North America from the time I was 16. Originally I felt drawn to the U.S, but after visiting Canada, I realized that was the only place I felt I want to live in. I still do.
How odd is that, that you can grow up in one place and feel like you belong in an entirely different one. I'm not sure if I believe in karma, but if I did, I think I must have lived somewhere in North America in my previous life. It felt so natural for me to live there for some reason. When I first arrived there it felt like I was alive for the first time in my life. That melancholy was gone.
Anyway, I do have a lot of issues with Sweden. I think I have a love/hate relationship with it. Perhaps a like/hate relationship, since love is too strong a word to describe my sentiments about Sweden. I like it just fine as long as I don't have to live there. My roots are there but it feels like my future is elsewhere.

Like a fish out of water

Ever thought about how insecure we suddenly become when we find ourselves on a different turf than our own? Visitors are usually insecure, unless they're German.
In Sweden, the service quality is generally rather appalling if you compare to North America. In North America, if the service is bad people tend to scream for the manager. Even if there is a slight problem, some people still scream for the manager.
If you suddenly applied European standards of service in North America, people would be screaming for the manager all the time. You'd barely be able to hear your own thoughts because the restaurants would be full of "Can I speak to the manager!'s".
Yet when North American people come to Europe, they don't appear as confident as they would on their home field. I have had waiters here in Sweden who have been downright sarcastic in the way they treat their customers. And shame on you if you ask to take your leftovers home with you, even though you did pay for it. No, it's just not done here, not without some shame as you ask the question. Here, being a waiter/waitress in a restaurant obviously carries some status, some power. The same goes for clothing stores.
Despite the quality of service that North Americans are used to, they still don't complain when they come here. Why is that? Is that because waiters tend to be more friendly and polite towards tourists, or maybe their English prevents them from being overly rude? Or could it be that visitors are almost always intimidated when they're out of their natural habitat?
I know I'm like that. I tend to let things slip that I wouldn't naturally let slip. I have experienced terrible service in Belgium, for example, but rather than get angry and let the store clerk have it, I started crying a while after my store visit. That had its reasons though, since I had been backpacking around Europe for almost 4 weeks together with 2 friends who didn't get along at all, with me or with each other, and I was physically and emotionally exhausted.
Even so, when we're tourists we are meek. I think we must subconsciously think of foreign places as unknown territory, and so we lose some of our usual gumption.
It's like we don't have the right to complain, because it's not our country, or our city. Thus, we put up with a lot of unnecessary crap.
Although it depends on where you are. I'm a native Swede, yet when I go to restaurants here and receive poor service, I hesitate to complain. The reason is that it's not done as frequently as in Canada, nor to the extreme that it is done there. Here, it's like the waiters and clerks are in charge, and the customers are at their mercy. Sure, you can complain, but you might end up with spit in your food if you do. I was surprised when a relative of mine from Sweden was visiting me in Vancouver, and we went to a restaurant and my steak was raw. Naturally I had the waiter take it back. I wasn't rude or obnoxious about it. My relative was freaking out though, saying "Ooh, now we'll get spit in our food!!" I asked him why he thought so and he said that that's what they would do in Sweden if you sent your food back. I was surprised, since I was used to North American service, where the customer is in charge, where restaurants and stores depend on their customer service.
It's just interesting how insecure we are when we're out of our natural element.

Craving beer and cinnamon buns

For the past month I have been craving ice cold beer and cinnamon buns. I don't even like cinnamon buns all that much. I only like them if they're warm.
I've always liked beer, even as a kid. My parents let me have non-alcoholic beer, or it may have been 0.5% alcohol or something to that effect. I loved it. My mom does as well, so I suppose I may have inherited it from her.
This past month though, the craving for cold beer has been incessant. What's even more odd is the craving for cinnamon buns. One could think I was pregnant. You could trust me to have an impossible craving such as beer, if that was the case.
And trust me to crave two highly fatty and carb-ridden things. Why can't I ever crave things like carrots or celery?

The hills, it gives me the chills

I was jogging on the tredmill at the gym a couple of weeks ago. There are only 5 channels on the T.Vs there, and the only thing even remotely watchable was MTV. "The Hills" was on. I have seen the title of that show float around in the gossip sections of various newspaper, but never really known what it was about. I knew that someone named Heidi had a major role but that was about it.
I didn't have headphones on but even without sound I was still able to tell that this show might perhaps be one of the dumbest shows in the history of television, and that's saying a lot.
These incredibly plastic looking people acting shallow and stupid, with every conversation so obviously scripted because everything was so awkward and feigned. Not a genuine emotion in sight. That Heidi person was the worst among them all.

The question is why this show has reached such popularity. Why? I don't understand it. I will never understand how these reality shows have become so interesting when we all know that most of what goes on in them is scripted. If it was reality it'd be a different story, but it's not.

Like those shows where lonely farmers are looking for their perfect mate and has women write to him and gets to pick out a handful who get to spend time with him on his farm. In the end he has to pick one. Are you going to tell me that people can actually fall in love in front of a whole camera crew, and that what they say and do isn't scripted. Any moron can see that it's all carefully planned. And what dignified woman, or man, would allow herself to be in competition with 4 other women over the affections of a man, in front of millions of viewers no less? You'd have to perform a lobotomy on me first, which is exactly what they appear to have done to that Heidi person on "The Hills".

I just do not get the love that people have for these shows. Most people know it's all a show for the cameras and most people are ashamed to admit they watch them. "I was flipping channels and I just happened to come across this show and since there was nothing else to watch I ended up watching it". "I watch it, I know it's stupid, but I can't help it". See, I even did it myself in the beginning of this post. Only in my case I can honestly say that I don't care if I ever watch "The Hills" again.

The secret crush

Sucks ass big time.

There is nothing so annoying and futile as having romantic feelings for someone and not being able or willing to tell them about it. It's such an enormous waste of time and energy. Trying to inadvertently maneuver your way into that person's life is not only degrading but makes you feel rather pathetic. If it's not a close friend it becomes even more difficult, because then you have to try and think of ways to see and spend time with this person without it seeming strange or odd. In my neurotic youth, not that I'm no longer neurotic, I'm just neurotic in a different way, I engaged in silly activities such as walking by the boy's apartment building, shopping in his bankrupt store just so I could get in his good graces, or hanging around places where I knew he might appear just in case he would show up, like a mutual acquaintance's house. As if I had nothing better to do with my time. I'd rearrange my whole day and blow off other people just for the mere chance that he might turn up and accidentally end up spending time with me. And once I did see him I'd act all aloof and casual, not to mention weird, since I needed to appear completely oblivious to him yet available and interesting enough for him to stick around. I needed to make it seem like I just happened to be there because I was passing by on my way someplace else and was just killing time.
If I was him I sure wouldn't find past me attractive. A chubby, round faced girl with frizzy unruly hair, large glasses and old lady clothes with huge shoulder pads. I used to wear my mom's and my aunts' old clothes. It was so bad that even my father reacted. For instance, I took to wearing this large, baby pink winter jacket that went almost to the knees, worn by one of my aunts back in the 80's. My father had to react that time and asked me: "Is that the kind of thing girls your age normally wear?!"
My personality wasn't much to write home about either. I was unbelievably shy and didn't say that much and when I did my nerves got in the way so much that I'd end up sounding cocky, surly and weird instead. Sometimes I'd even stutter. Sometimes I wouldn't even make any sense.
I was simply unattractive to the opposite sex. I was a seemingly sexless who lived inside her head, still do to some extent I suppose. But beneath the surface I was yearning for love and affection. Not sex. The only male I'd give myself to in those days was Elvis, had he been alive. No, I just wanted romance. And I went looking for it in the oddest places where I had a snowball's chance in hell of getting what I wanted. I think I only became interested in those who were either taken or were virtual strangers because it was safer that way. I could go on nurturing the perfect fantasy of how love was inside my head. Like Rosie O'Donnell said to Meg Ryan in "Sleepless in Seattle": "You don't want to be in love. You want to be in love in a movie!" That still holds some truth.
I've had those secret crushes since then too, as an adult, where I wasn't supposed to. They're like a drug. They feel great while you're around him but lousy at all other times, particularly when you wake up and smell the coffee and realize that it was all in your head, for the most part anyway. They haven't all been unrequited, but they've all been basically impossible. The one time I think I came close to the crush becoming reality, I chickened out and made another choice.
So, the all-consuming secret crush really sucks.

Family is family

I've never really hit it off with my relatives. I saw them a lot while I was growing up but it was always a conflict ridden relationship for me. I felt they didn't understand me and perhaps I didn't understand them either. They generally annoyed or upset me, made me feel like I was constantly being questioned and disapproved of, even sometimes reduced me to tears when nobody was looking. Yet I always liked those big family events. It wasn't a big, old happy family. We weren't the Waltons. Like in a lot of other families there was underlying hostility and conflict between people.
I suppose I took for granted that we would always be a part of each other's lives.
When both grandparents had passed however, each family kind of went their separate ways. Or perhaps some of them still see each other. I really don't know.
An event a few years ago made it rather impossible for my family to socialize with the rest of the relatives, and since then they have more or less disappeared from our lives. We can still see each other of course, but things have changed.
Anyway, I don't want to get bogged down by the specifics of that. The point is that I really miss being part of a large family. Especially around the holidays. As it is now, it's just me, my parents and my common-law. Even though we never really got along all that well and perhaps didn't have that much in common, there's a void without the relatives. It's rather empty at Christmas. To me, Christmas is a holiday that should be large, noisy and eventful, something out of the ordinary. Four people gathering around a quiet table is just like any other day of the year.
Then I remind myself that Christmas isn't about how many people there are around the table or how festive the house is. It's about the birth of Christ. It shouldn't really matter who or how many we are with. Christmas will come either way. Then I reconsider and go back to my previous belief that the holidays is a family ocassion. Then I realize that nothing can stay the same forever and that my extended family has changed and I need to change with it. Instead of relying on my relatives I should be creating my own family. Have children. Create new traditions. Traditions of my own. Because we sure can't turn back the clock. Neither is it healthy to gaze nostagically at a distant past and remember it in rosier terms than it actually was.

Bleeding heart liberal...sort of...maybe not

All people are equal, regardless of background or how much money you have in the bank. Social status is utter nonsense and I get pissed just from hearing the term "class society". Nobody is better than anyone else and I feel like smacking anyone who claims this.

People has to come before profit and material things. Don't cut back on geriatric care and education because there isn't enough funding and then go out and build a new town square for millions of dollars. No town square can be that important. How does one justify kids being thrust into huge classes miles and miles away from their home because their local school was shut down due to the lack of funding, while in the meantime gobs of money is poured into making a town square more esthetically pleasing?
Esthetics is important, but people are a little more important, am I right?

In this respect I suppose I am a liberal. However, when it comes to crime and punishment I suppose I fall more in the conservative fold...perish the thought.

Last night I walked home from my parents across the field that I always cross, along with my dog. The still autumn air was echoing of voices of inebriated kids having house parties here and there. One of my biggest pet peeves. As we approach our block, we pass one particular apartment where there is a party going on almost every weekend. Loud kids were littering the lawn outside, having bullshit conversations and making a racket. I think to myself "Poor neighbours!".Minutes later, just as we got home, a cop car comes charging along the same path that we just walked on. My mom could see it from her kitchen window. She called me to make sure Kelly and I got home safely. While I'm on the phone with her, kids come scurrying out of that apartment building like mice from a sinking ship. It must have been a drug bust or an alcohol bust or whatever. Most of those kids were probably underage.

All I could think was "Good! I hope the cops catch them!"

See, in this case I'm certainly not a bleeding heart liberal. I have zero tolerance in this area. I have a special dislike, a very strong dislike, for people who throw loud, drunken parties without any regard for their neighbours. It really sucks when the person living below you is making a racket and people are throwing glass bottles on the ground, or maybe even trying your front door handle to try and get into your apartment. That's never happened to me personally but know someone who would always have drunks stagger into her apartment to use to the bathroom whenever her neighbour had a party. Sure you should be able to have parties, but does it have to be at your neighbours' expense? I don't think it's okay to have loud music on at any time of the day. My neighbours wouldn't choose to listen to Elvis Presley belch out "That's Alright Mama", thus I either use headphones or I keep the volume on a level where the sound doesn't travel over to my neighbour's apartment. Why can't everybody use this simple logic? You can't live like you're the only person around for miles. If you want to live that way, move into some cottage in the middle of the forest.

I have no pity in my heart for kids who act like idiots. Sorry. Not if they take their problems out on other people. If they go around smashing the glass on bus shelters or doodling on public, or private, property, I have no patience with them. I especially have no sympathy for kids who kill other kids. Like the case of a group of Swedish teengage boys who kicked another teenager to death. Kicking another boy in the head until he dies in a joint group effort, now that's the kind of action that deserves no mercy as far as I'm concerned. By doing that, they forfeited their right to rehabilitation. If one has the capacity to do that, one is beyond rescue. Let's try to save those that want to be saved. Because there are those kids out there too. My sympathies lies with them. Those lost kids who lack someone to turn to for stability and parental guidance, and who are basically nice kids who may get drunk or do drugs but who don't take it out on the rest of the world. You see them sometimes, taking a late bus home, baggy pants, ratty appearance, leaning against the window. Looking sad rather than aggressive. Sad gets to me, aggressive doesn't.

As for people who take their misery out on everyone around them, sorry...out of sympathy. I think those boys who kicked another boy to death should have been tried as adults and been sentenced to some hard jail time, not been given 1 year in a rehabilitation clinic.

I go through hard times too, we all do, but not all of us deal with it by ruining the lives of others or destroying public property, thereby letting the tax payers foot the bill.

I forgot to add something to the Vancouver list

Buntzen Lake. One of my favourite places in the Vancouver area. It's so peaceful and spiritual. One just wants to sit there and look. This time I think I might want to hike up Eagle Mountain. It's a fair hike but supposedly the view from the top is magnificent, and you pass a waterfall on your way up.
The best part is that there's a special part of the beach reserved for dogs. Even if you don't have a dog of your own you can go there and just sit and watch all those beauties playing in the water.

What a sham

If you think about, it really is one big sham. We're all big shams. I bet most of us don't do one single spontaneous, honest move on Facebook. Few people would put as their status: "Just got up and looked in the mirror and I look like shit" or "Just screamed at my 2-year old for being too noisy". Even the negative events are sugar coated. The exception are those lost souls who are looking for attention and sympathy, and whose statuses will almost always be reeking with self-pity or self-deprecating, so that friends will just have to pep them with reassuring platitudes. Either that or they can be so mysteriously vague and desperate at the same time, so as to invite as many people as possible to comment.

However, most people will make sure to present a normal picture of themselves. Rosy even. How much is actually real? I suppose a lot of us like to present a picture of ourselves that aren't really true. Even more bizarre are that people actually take pictures solely intended for Facebook. "Pose with me, I'll make this my new Facebook picture!" Or putting on makeup and taking pictures of themselves when they're alone.

Is it all about projecting a certain image? How sincere is it really, when you have hundreds of people on your friends list. How honest are you really in your statuses and your wall posts? I suppose everyone is different. If you think about it, it really is bizarre. Sharing your daily actions on an internet site every single day, as so many people like to do. After a while all that becomes such a huge bore. I've stopped caring when people bake bread, when their kids have a cold or what they ate for lunch, or where they're traveling to on their vacation. If I'm good friends with them, odds are I will know about it anyway and don't need FB to tell me about it. And if I'm not, what does it matter? In the beginning the whole thing was kind of neat but now I barely even reflect on people's statuses or wall posts anymore. What purpose does it really serve? If most of what we reveal about ourselves on there is either fabricated, distorted or irrelevant anyway, what's the point?

Well, these are my thoughts. I'm questioning the purpose behind sites such as Facebook and Twitter, yet I know I probably won't deactivate my FB account just yet, so I guess that makes me a hypocrite. Anyway, if one starts to think too much, nothing makes sense. Everything is fluff and pretense.

Roommates from hell

I've had them.

I've had a variety of roommates in my day, since I moved around quite a bit during my college years.

There was the 18 year old gay guy with ADHD who had a different boyfriend every week and liked to leave his used condoms in the bathroom sink. He also never cleaned, did dishes or showed any concern toward his two roommates. He once moved in his friend and had her stay on our living room couch. She was initially only supposed to stay a few days but it ended up being a couple of months, and most nights her boyfriend stayed with her there on our couch. I finally had enough and complained to the landlady, who booted them both out of there.

Then there was the incredibly surly Taiwanese girl who lacked a personality, who I rented a room in the basement from. The room must have been a garage once because it was cold and had that concrete feel to it. The room outside my room wasn't properly isolated or even finished, and there was always a mysterious bucket in the hall that seemed to contain a head. I only stayed there 1 month, then I couldn't take it anymore.

I'm not sure that I can count an ex-boyfriend as a roommate, but I should be able to since we more or less lived like roommates anyway. We shared a bedroom of course, but we had separate finances and so on. He wasn't a bad roommate, apart from his tendency to be grumpy and just an all around bore. His brother lived there too, which was okay, apart from his lack of hygiene. His B.O permeated the house. B.O is one of those things that never gets any easier to deal with. You just don't get used to it. And I think as far as B.O goes, one of the worst smells is unwashed thick hair, apart from rampant sweat odor and other smells emerging from the lower regions.
When really thick hair hasn't been washed for a while, a particularly nasty odor starts to emanate from it, a smell so foul that it almost takes your breath away, but not in a good way.

To do in Vancouver

The trip is looming nearer and nearer. I think I might want to stay permanently. It'll be odd and sad to just be there for 2 weeks. Having to leave all over again. Well, I'm not going to think about that. Instead I will focus on the positive notes, and make plans of the things that are a must while I'm there.

In no specific order, these things are definitely on the agenda:

1. Burger and fries at Red Robin with Dianne, and some of their Ceasar salad, and a second visit during which I will have their Mesa Chicken Salad. Provided it's still on the menu.

2. A REAL pizza. Not the thin, greasy crap they have here. Who the hell puts EDAM on their pizza instead of Mozzarella?!

3. Purdy's in Lougheed Mall. I will enter the store, tears welling in my eyes, sniffing in the air like a bloodhound, and I will rejoice. Snowballs, chocolate covered caramel, milk chocolate...how I have missed this!

4. Dinner at Steamworks with Dianne. Remembering an evening years ago when we had a delicious dinner in their cozy basement and Dianne got drunk on half a glass of red wine. The food here is really excellent and the ambiance is not bad either. It's also located in one of my favourite parts of Vancouver - the Waterfront area.

5. Visit at old friend's place and meet their adoptive daughter. Might spend the night.

6. Mission Springs Brewery in Mission for dinner. The beer is great, the food is great, they have daily specials, the ambiance is nice, plus it's one of our old hangouts.

7. Going with Dianne to her gym for a workout/swim. Looking forward to finally trying out this gym that I feel I've heard so much about. With all the food I'm going to eat I feel like I'm going to need as much exercise as possible.

8. Take the 99-B Line to UBC with Dianne. That's where it all started. That's where we became best buds. So, the plan is to take the bus out there, hopefully check out Buchanan where we took classes and sweated out oral presentations and even a Shakespeare performance. Then it's off to the UBC pub for a pint of Kokanee or Molson.

9. Ghost train in Stanley Park. This is a funny and thrilling ride. It's a family attraction, so it's not all that scary but it's just the idea of riding around in a dark park and seeing ghostly sights amongst the vegetation when you least expect it. Plus, it's going to be fun to see how Dianne reacts.

10. Shopping in Metrotown with Dianne.

11. Walmart in Burnaby. As surreal and weird as that place can be, they really do have some cheap stuff that you can't find here, like smoked oysters for 3 bucks a can. It's also a trip down memory lane.

12. Spaghetti Factory in Gastown. So much food to be had...so little time...sigh...
Well the best part of this restaurant, apart from the cheap, good food, is that it's haunted.

More will be added to this list as time goes by. Stay tuned.

What's the big deal about alcohol?

Drink it because you like it, not because you feel you have to because your friends are drinking, or because you want to get hammered. I must confess that I'm guilty of having done the latter. There have been times when I've had a particularly bad day that I've needed to take the edge off. But there is no way in hell I would drink just because everyone else does it. I don't care if I look like a square or not. If people perceive me as boring just because I'm not drinking, well that really says more about them then it does about me. People have started placing too much emphasis on alcohol. It goes both ways too. The non-drinkers place too much emphasis on it and claim that it's bad and the drinkers place to much emphasis on it by thinking that you can't really have a good time without drinking. The latter is especially true in Sweden. A party isn't a party unless you get hammered in Sweden. There are exceptions to this of course, but in general, the drinking culture is almost hysterical. It becomes like a clear, hard goal to get drunk before you go out. A mission. I have had the dubious pleasure to attend a few Swedish so-called "pre-parties", and although I'm not exactly a teetotaller myself, I was astonished by the amounts of alcohol that gets consumed at this affairs. The goal - to get sufficiently drunk before everyone goes out to a club. The reason - it's too expensive to buy booze at a club, and besides you're not really having a good time unless you're drunk. Everyone else is doing it, so that means you have to as well.
The drinking culture is a little bit more laid-back in Canada. I rarely ever see people as drunk there as I do in Sweden, and even when Canadians are drunk they handle it better. The pressure to drink is still there though, which I think is silly. Why does it have to be such a huge deal?
The same goes the other way around. It's one thing if you don't like the taste of alcohol, but to abstain from it completely because you feel it's evil in some way is silly too. Alcohol is a drug, and consumed in excess it's dangerous and in some cases lethal, but come on...drinking because you like the taste of it isn't bad. And people who drink aren't morally depraved creatures who are going to hell for their sins. If I want to have a glass of wine or beer because I like it I'm going to have it, and I don't really care if or who else at the table shares my choice in beverage. Drink if you want to, and if you don't I couldn't care less.
Maybe the solution to everyone's problem is to simply put less emphasis on alcohol all around. The people who rabidly binge drink should stop looking at booze as the magic quick fix to a good time, and alcohol shouldn't automatically be included in a Saturday night of fun with friends. As a result of this, the teetotallers of the world might stop looking at alcohol as the downfall of man.
Everyone just chill out. It's just a beverage. It just so happens that we have to consume it with a little more care than we do milk or coke.

Weeding out the bad apples

My friend just blogged about whether or not it's okay to date more than one person at a time. I vehemently stated that it was not okay, and that if a guy does that he's a scrub, just as if a girl did that she would automatically be labeled a slut.
Then I got to thinking, after a comment following mine, that dating and being in a relationship are two different things. I always thought the term "dating" is an odd term to be using these days. Because as it was pointed out, it is actually courting, and how many people court these days? These days people meet, go out for coffee and then start hanging out and doing things like hiking, going out to dinner etc. We don't really refer to it as dates anymore though, do we? It's only a date in the very beginning, before you know the person and become a couple.
Once you become girlfriend/boyfriend you're not dating anymore. You're in a relationship. It's at this state that dating other people at the same time would be poor form.

However, as I've told my best friend many times, one should date several people. Finding Mr. Right is like wine tasting. You need to take a swig from a few different glasses before you find the one that's suitable for you. If you get into a serious relationship with the first guy you date, what do you have to compare him to? If you fall head over heels on the first date and he's the man of your dreams that's one thing, but come on...how often does that happen?

Before I had my debut with the opposite sex, I knew nothing about guys. I thought they were going to be like in the movies. Boy was I mistaken! Turns out, they're just as flawed as we girls are. And that's okay, we're all human. I've stopped expecting perfection, and I now realize that compatibility is more important. Do we have similar interests, do we click, is he kind and caring?
Yes, I did go through a phase in the beginning when I was drawn to mean guys. Thankfully I outgrew that. I have zero interest in them these days. Nor do I have any interest in self-absorbed and vain men. Now what is desirable to me is someone who treats me with respect, is kind, has a good sense of humor and is responsible. The rest will fall into place.

It wasn't always like this though. I made some pretty gruesome mistakes when I was younger. Not that I dated much. My experience is really quite limited. I have had enough experience though to be able to weed out the bad apples from the good ones. I think once we pass a certain age we acquire a radar that will give off a warning signal when we meet a real loser. Experience helps. Dating more than one guy does help. How else are we going to be able to see who's decent and who's a moron? How else are we going to be able to distinguish romantic love from friendship? Passion from like?

So, don't be afraid to shop around a bit before you decide on your keeper. It'll make you all the more mature and ready once that special someone does come along.
Also, for those girls out there who still thinks they have to wait for the guy to make the first move, remember that it might be just as difficult for him as it is for you to do it. Granted, it's more appealing with a guy who's not afraid to make his feelings clear. I've had my fill of elusive, insecure men. It's not attractive. But I don't think there's anything strange with the girl making the first move. Whatever comes naturally. Once we hit adulthood, that cute coy stuff and playing hard to get and hinting around something instead of just coming right out and saying is just isn't charming anymore. Who has the time and the energy for it! The same goes for men. If you like someone, just say so. Life is too short.

Divine right

I just read in the local newspaper that a man who sexually molested two small girls for 8 years was sentenced to 3 months in jail. The girls were 5 and 7 years old when he started molesting them. What he did to them was severe enough to be classified as rape. 3 months in jail? Is that all their childhoods are worth? Their childhoods were probably over the moment he laid his grubby hands on them. And it's probably a fair assumption to say that this will remain with them for the rest of their lives. I'm sorry, but it was my children, 3 months just wouldn't suffice. Granted, this man is 77 years old, but that makes no difference in my opinion. If it was my children I think I my first focus would be to help them process this experience in the best way possible, but my second priority would be to get justice on their behalf. I don't know if I would rest until I got it. I know we're supposed to forgive and forget, but in this case I doubt I'd be able to. I think mothers have a God given right to protect their off-spring and make sure that whoever hurts them pays for what they've done. Might not be the most charitable and Christian opinion to have, but deep down we're all animals, and animals fiercely protect their young. There's no excuse for sexually abusing a child, and I have no sympathy for a pedophile, no matter what age he is.

Stress and anxiety times

I now suspect that it doesn't really matter what happens in September. I think that there's some kind of underlying factor that causes anxiety this time of year. Maybe there's nothing I can do about it. Maybe it's something in the air. Who knows.

I spent part of the day phoning British Airways to get an explanation from them as to why they took 50 dollars from my account without my knowledge. These are the dangers of giving out your credit card number.
No explanation was given, just a request to fax a copy of my bank statement so they could see the exact amount, which is odd since they should be able to see that in their computer system anyway. Well anyway, I faxed the damn thing off and have been trying to contact the same person I spoke to this morning, since I didn't hear anything for several hours. Naturally, she had gone home for the day.

Apart from this joyous task I took on a fifth English course for this term. I hope the students will be nice and pleasant, and not sulky and pessimistic. There have been instances where some students have been like that. There are sometimes 1 or 2 people in the group that behave that way. I just don't have the patience for that these days.

On another note, the wrong side won in the election and those that are gravely ill and unable to work can look forward to another 4 years of degradation. The Swedish Democratic party made it into Parliament, which came as no surprise since the polls had indicated that this would happen. While I don't agree with their opinions, and would definitely not cast my vote in their favour, I, having lived abroad for a longer period of time, have a different perspective than Swedes who have never lived anywhere but in Sweden. As an immigrant in Canada for example, you will not receive any government funded lessons in your native language, and if you want to study English you do it at your own cost. In Sweden, immigrants get to take Swedish For Immigrants for free as well as lessons in their mother tongue, to maintain their native language skills. All in all, Sweden is still pretty good to their refugees and immigrants when they first arrive in the country. It's later that they fuck up, when it comes time for them to start looking for a job. Foreign people are still discriminated against on the job market, unfortunately.
I also think that the Swedish Democrats brought up a valid point that needs to be addressed, since I consider it a huge problem, and that is the fact that girls get called "cunt" and "whore" in school on a daily basis, especially if they're blond and Swedish looking. This is outrageous and I think something really ought to be done about this. No girl should have to be called those names, no matter where she's from. So, any political party who'll take an active stance against it and who will invest money into putting a stop to it is okay in my book. Whether or not the Swedish Democrats will actually deliver on this promise is another matter entirely. All politicians make wild promises during election times and then suddenly get amnesia when it comes times to make good on them.

And here we go!

My mom was hospitalized today. She's a nurse in the intensive cardiac care unit. Today her blood pressure went sky high and she almost passed out. After running some tests they find out her blood count was low too. They did a lung X-ray and took more blood tests. I automatically started thinking the worst, since she's been a smoker for many decades. She's still in hospital now. We went to see her this evening. While we were there another nurse came in with some tests results and as it turns out she might have hypothyroidism. Nothing has been confirmed yet and there are still other tests to be done. If it is hypothyroidism it can be treated with medication. I hope that's all it is because it's nothing compared to what I was fearing.
She's in hospital right now and tomorrow we'll hopefully get some answers.
See...bloody September! This has been a bad day for me because not only am I a worry wart these days, but it being this particular month I'm extra sensitive.
It's so odd, because I really love autumn. It's my favourite season. The colours are so beautiful and it's Halloween and it's getting darker and that means lighting candles and cozying up on the couch. I love it. It's just a shame that shitty stuff always seem to go down in the fall.

Why must "happy and cheerful" be a prerequisite?

Isn't this a tad discriminatory?

In job ads in Sweden, it's not uncommon to see among the qualities they are looking for: "Happy, cheerful, perky".

Darn, and I met all the other qualifications! I have a university degree and 5 years work experience. Too bad I'm not happy, cheerful and perky! Oh well. Next time.

What business is my emotional state to a potential employer as long as I am qualified and know how to do the job? As long as I'm competent and know how to plaster a big old smile on my face even though I don't really mean it, that should be all that's required. Why do we have to be perky and cheerful anyway? Isn't it enough to be polite and genuine? Why do we have to be affected in order to achieve?

I am not, nor will I ever be, perky and cheerful. I never have been perky and cheerful. This is why I'm most suited for a job where I don't have to see any people. Stick me in front of a computer screen with a long translation, or better yet, a book to write. I may struggle and hate it while I'm doing it but I'm secretly loving it and enjoying every minute of not having to pretend to be perky and cheerful. Screw perky and cheerful. These are adjectives that are stereotypically associated with women, as if we all should naturally be sunshine and lollipops. Well we're not. We're just as filled with issues and conflict as men are.

Happy is something to strive for however. Happy is a goal to aim for.

Halfway through

We've reached the half peak of September. This is when the shitty stuff usually goes down. However, even when September is over I'm not going to assume that everything is rosy and sunshine. Crap has been known to happen in October too. I hope I'm not jinxing it by talking about it. Knocking on wood right now just to be on the safe side.

I know we're supposed to live in the present and not spend our lives worrying about what will come tomorrow, but when you see a negative pattern developing you can't help but be a little but concerned. I don't know why, but this time of year is very volatile for me. I can't help feeling that it's more likely that something bad happens now.

September so far

September is the most dangerous month for me, the month when something bad usually happens. I've kept my mouth shut about it until now and have never shared my paranoia with anyone. I'm thinking now that maybe I should. God knows keeping quiet about hasn't stopped things from happening, so why not talk about it?

Every f-ing autumn for the past 4 years something shitty has happened. There have been deaths in the family, threats, confrontations, panic attacks...I started to think that I have been cursed, and that the month of September was destined to bring on the drama. Well screw it. I'm sick of keeping it to myself. It sure hasn't done anything for me keeping it to myself.

So, we're 9 days into September and so far nothing really terrible has happened. Let's hope it stays that way. Although the heavy stuff usually don't go down until at the end of the month, or in October, so the fact that nothing has happened yet doesn't necessarily mean anything.

I'm not usually this open, but I've had some brandy and I'm feeling cockier at the present time. But you know, I think that I'm far too closed up, and that so far it has gotten me nowhere. Perhaps it is better to be more open.

I can't wait for this month to be over.

Obsession is bad

I'd rather be obsessed by food or drink than with another person. There is nothing so frustrating than to be obsessed with someone. When I fixate on someone I really go all out. My life revolves around that person and he affects every aspect in my life. I even take up the same interests as him, or at least I make a half-hearted attempt to.
It's been a long time since I did this. Thankfully, I've stopped obsessing about people. I wouldn't go as far as saying I'm nice and normal now, but as I matured a bit I became more independent, and gained some self-respect. Now I slap myself down if I can sense fixation rearing its ugly head, which it almost never does anyway.
When I did use to obsess it was almost always about a guy of course. Even when it was mutual, I would always go the extra mile. The more he withdrew from me the more I'd push. Sometimes it was unrequited love, sometimes it was mutual. In either case, nothing good came out of it. In the unrequited cases I was too chicken to make my move but too possessive to relinquish the thought of him, instead I tried to make sure that I was around him as much as possible, in seemingly innocent ways. I'd just happened to pop by his house because I just happpened to walk by. In the early days, when I still had zero experience and was a freaky recluse, I'd form obsessions with guys I didn't even know, who were just casual acquaintaces at work and who had done nothing more than speak to me nicely. I looked one of them up in the phonebook and found his address and made a point of walking by his apartment building several times a week, like some fanatical stalker.
Then there were those crushes or relationships which weren't solely in my head, but that actually existed. In those cases where my feelings were requited, it started out well but as time went on I would always start to fixate, and since almost no one likes to be with someone who's clingy, it always ended badly. With those crushes that didn't know about my feelings but who I suspected felt the same way, I grew bitchy and unstable whenever I felt them slipping away from me. If I thought that their interest was waning I'd become cranky and weird.
Even when your love is requited, becoming obsessed with someone can never lead to anything good. I think we lose ourselves a bit when we do that. We become so focused on that person and his/her actions and words that we forget about ourselves. I hate that feeling and I hope I'm never in that place again. Because as I've realized, we can control some things but we can't control other people. We can't control their feelings or actions. All we can do is be ourselves and try to live our lives with some dignity and self-respect, and treat people the same way we'd like to be treated, and accept that other people are different from us. It may be my imagination, but I think I make friends more easily now that I'm not so desperate and clingy. Not only that, but I actually manage to keep them too.

Canada vs. Sweden part 2

Like Sweden, Canada has advantages as well as disadvantages. I'll start with the disadvantages.

Disavantages to Canada:

1. Rules and regulations
There are so many rules that seem rather nazi-like. One is that infants and toddlers need to cover up on the beach. That is, they can't romp around naked but have to wear a miniature bikini or swim trunks. I suppose with all the pedophiles running around out there, this makes sense...somewhat. One rule that doesn't sit well with me though is the no drinking in public law. Are you telling me I can't have a beer with me to the beach? That's ridiculous. Why should be able to drink anywhere inside but as soon as you step outside it's a no-no? Silly. This is a matter of personal choice for me. As long as I don't get hammered and violent towards others, I don't see whose business it is if I have a beer outside.

2. The healthcare system
As long as you have a care card, you're alright, but if you don't, and you're in need of extensive medical care, you're screwed.

3. Standard of living
In general, the standard of living is better in Sweden. You definitely see a difference in the quality of housing. Rental apartments in Sweden make rental apartments in Canada look like rat holes. In fact a lot of apartments and basement suites in Canada are rat holes. And yet landlords charge a fortune for very substandard living. Meanwhile, there are huge, fabulous houses built next to run-down shacks that don't even seem fit for living. The gap between rich and poor sure is big. I have lived in some questionable places in Vancouver, and those places were still palaces compared to some of the dumps you see. And then of course there are a lot of people who don't even have a home.

4. PST, GST, HST...
Living in B.C sure isn't cheap. It wasn't enough with PST and GST added to your bill, now it's HST - Harmonized Sales Tax - too. Sounds like crap to me.

5. Post secondary education costs through the nose
This is not solely a bad thing. It is bad that it has to cost so much to get an education, especially if you're an international student. It should be cheaper. However, making students pay for their studies might help to weed out those who really shouldn't be going to college or university in the first place. In Sweden, some people study because there is nothing else to do, without a real aim, thereby taking up slots that should be filled with motivated people who really need and want an education. The facts still remain though that it's too pricey to get an education in Canada. Where does all that tax money go?

Advantages to Canada:


1. Friendliness and openness
Ok, this isn't always true. If you're on the skytrain or subway during rush hour, you'll find that the atmosphere is less than friendly. In general though, Canadians have an openness about them that I have a hard time finding in Sweden. They have more tolerance to differences. This in part due to the country's multiculturalism I suppose, but Sweden is getting rather multicultural these days and people seem as narrow-minded as always there. Swedes are set in their ways. It's harder to stray from the norm in Sweden, much harder. In Canada there is a sense of personal freedom. You don't have to stick so hard to the norm. It's more okay to be different, or to go your own way. Also, you will find a good deal more friendliness in the service sector. Here the customer is in charge, and if you find yourself being treated rotten you can always ask to speak to the manager. I dislike people who make it a point to complain and who shout for the manager as soon something doesn't meet with their approval, but if something really is wrong, you should be able to complain and get some form of reimbursement. It is not okay to wait for your food for an hour and then not even get an apology. It is not okay to receive the wrong order and have the waiter roll his eyes in annoyance when you complain about it, or just as infuriating - give you a sarcastic little smile.

2. It's okay to be neurotic
It doesn't matter if you're a little nutty, or a little gloomy. And you can admit that there are certain parts of your life that stink. In Sweden, perkiness is a prerequisite. It even says in a lot of job ads: "We're looking for a happy, perky person..." So I have to be happy and perky in order to do this job? How is my emotional status relevant? As long I'm competent, polite and good at my job, how is it relevant whether or not I'm happy? And perky...I'm not even going to go there. I have never been perky and I will never be perky. I dislike perky. Especially when it's mixed with smugness, as it is in so many of those blond Swedish women. Oh, and in Vancouver you don't need to feel like a bum because you don't dress like a fashion poster because most people in Vancouver wear t-shirts anyway.

3. A more efficient job market
There is more variety, more jobs, less discrimination, and if you don't do your job properly you lose it. I happen to like this last part the best. It should pay off to be a good worker. If an employee slacks off and has a bad work attitude, why should they still be able to keep their job? In Sweden, employees are so protected by union rules and government rules that short of stealing, they can do just about anything and get away with it. They can slack off as much as they want and still keep their jobs. I've seen it with my own two eyes. Whereas in Canada, it's not necessarily those that have been there the longest who get to keep their positions if the company has to do cut-backs. It's those that are good workers who get to stay, at least that's been my experience. I don't believe in that last hired, first fired rule. It should be based on performance who stays and who goes.

4. Natural beauty
The landscape in for example B.C is amazing. Sweden is beautiful too but there is something so breathtaking and dramatic about B.C. It makes you stare in disbelief. The first time I went up to Burnaby Mountain Park I just sat there and stared in amazement.

5. More privacy
People don't stare, and more importantly, when you buy or sell property it's private information and it is not listed in the newspaper with the exact figures for the public to see. Nor is your annual income public information. In Sweden it is public information whenever someone sells or buys property. Why this would be anyone else's business I have no clue. More important, why should it interest other people how much some total stranger got for his house? However, such things are public information. Even worse is that your annual income is also public information. I find this absurd, not just because it's an invasion of privacy but because it's disturbing that people actually are that nosy that they need to know what other people bring home every year.