The sweet blonde or the bitchy brunette?

When I was a kid, I was a big fan of Archie, the comic book. I was most specifically engrossed in the triangle between Archie, Betty and Veronica. Without fail I rooted for Betty in the neverending rivalry between her and Veronica. Betty is sweet, nice and blonde, while Veronica is a bitchy and spoiled brunette who tends to stab Betty in the back every chance she gets, even though they're supposed to be best friends. Even during those times when Veronica does something selfless and nice, she still irritated me. There was just something about her that rubbed me the wrong way, and it wasn't that she was bitchy. Normally, I will always root for the more "non-traditional" girl, the one who's not perky, subservient and necessarily blonde, but who might be a bit grumpy, masculine or socially awkward. The kind of girl who might get overlooked because she doesn't easily fall into the category of what the majority of guys prefer in a girl, in fact she might not fit in to any category. In Archie, this girl is Ethel. Though Ethel isn't grumpy, she differs from the other girls. She's tall, flat chested and rather plain, and naturally you don't see any of the guys taking any interest in her. Ethel always just runs after Jughead, which always mystified me since he's a dull guy whose priorities in life are eating and sleeping.
Though I rooted for Betty, I always wished that she would dropkick Archie and find someone else, let Veronica have him. Seriously, look at Archie's character! Sure, he's cute with his red hair and boyish persona, yes I know it's only a cartoon but indulge me, but look at how wishy-washy Archie is. He has the hots for Veronica and is clearly the most interested in her, yet he continues to string Betty along, without any regard for her feelings. It must be a real boost for his male ego to have two girls, one date for Friday night and one for Saturday? If the roles were reversed, and the comic book was called Betty, and it was about Betty dating both Reggie and Archie at the same time, you know what you'd call Betty? You'd call her a slut. Since Archie's a guy, he's just being a stud. And he's so darn goofy and innocent, how could anyone call him a male slut?
Why does he find Veronica so alluring when she treats him like crap most of the time and goes off with the first guy that comes along who has a cool car? It must be a case of wanting the unattainable. Betty makes herself far too available and lets herself be treated like a doormat, and thus she isn't as interesting. She's like a comfortable, old sofa that you only turn to when you're sick and you want to feel safe and snug. The Bettys of this world drive me up the wall. It's like fingernails on a chalkboard to see a nice girl bend over backwards for a guy and keep pining over him while he chases after another girl.
The question is, are there any guys, or gals, out there who would prefer a Veronica to a Betty?

R.I.P J.D Salinger

I just found out that J.D Salinger died. It's odd because just a week or so ago I was searching for information about him, thinking that he had already passed away, and was stunned to realize that he was still alive. It was almost like finding out that Elvis is alive after all, not quite as big as that would have been but still pretty mindblowing. I absolutely love Catcher In The Rye. I will never tire of this book. Thank you, J.D Salinger. Your book speaks to me, many decades after you wrote it and many generations later.

Snowy day

On the way back my footsteps in the snow had all but disappeared, you couldn't even tell that I had walked there, it was snowing that hard. In fact, I was barely visible, that's how bad it was, even though I was wearing a black jacket which was in stark contrast to the snow. It was funny how it could be in the winter. It was bizarre if you really thought about it. You could do almost whatever you wanted, because you were barely visible anyway. Nobody could really see you, not that well anyway. As I turned around I saw my footsteps already begin to fade as the snow poured down and covered them up. When you walked by the building glass doors you couldn't see your own reflection that well either. All you saw was some kind of feature passing by, like an apparition. Almost invisible. I trotted the old familiar path. My legs seemed to move on their own. I knew each step, each bump in the pavement, although today they were covered by a thick layer of snow so it was hard to locate them. One time I lost a ball in the snow on the the fields, and couldn't find it no matter how much I searched for it. In the spring when it started to thaw, I went back to the same spot and there it was, still there in the exact same spot. I picked it up, took it home and cleaned it off. It was as though it had never been there at all, even though it had been there for 6 months. We had worried that somebody would find it and take it, but since it had been covered with snow nobody had seen it, and even when the snow thawed nobody saw it anyway, even though it was bright red. Or maybe somebody saw it but didn't care and just let it be. It was all broken up anyway. It had a big crack in it and the surface was scratched. So who would want that.
When I passed the swing set I looked at it and it was covered in snow, like everything else. Without the snow, with the layers of snow peeled back, you could see the swings and the sharp edges of the wooden frame. The swings were in horrible condition. Nobody really cared about the upkeep of the yard, so the swings were dirty from kids playing on them and they were all worn out and the seats had been stepped on. With the snow on it you couldn't see that though, so it looked kind of nice, like some abstract statue.

Night time blues

Sitting in front of the computer with Fantastic Four playing in the livingroom and my dog snoring on the bed next to me. When I look out my window into the courtyard I see rows and rows of living rooms with the blue light of the T.V flickering inside most of them. Some person on the bottom floor still has his christmas lights up. News flash - Christmas has come and gone, sadly. This Saturday I managed to accomplish a few things. First, I went to the gym and jogged on the old tredmill for 40 minutes, then came home and baked a chocolate toffee cake and then managed to write for an hour or so, with both Nick and dog snoring behind me. It'll do for today. I'm so tired and listless all the time, must be the season, perpetual darkness. I dislike this time of the year because as soon as the holidays end I get this empty feeling. It's like pulling a plug, it all becomes so terribly dark and dreary, with nothing tangible to look forward to. Discarded Christmas trees everywhere, thrown out because they're done serving their purpose, now they're just sad and bare looking. Gloomy reminders that Christmas is over.
On the other hand, with a new year comes determination to make this year a good and productive one. January is always filled with ambitious plans and ideas. Normally, they're lost by March. This year, my resolution is to not lose my drive!

Why older horror movies are better

Old classics such as Halloween, Friday the 13th, Black Christmas, or even an olden goldie like Creature From the Black Lagoon, have today's horror movies beat in my opinion. In the old days, horror movies didn't have to be that violent in order to be scary. They relied more on suspense and the stalker-point-of-view elements. Granted, they were very violent too of course, but not in such an exaggerated way. I wonder who started the technique of having the audience see everything from the killer's point of view. Steven Spielberg did it in Jaws but even a bit earlier than that, in Black Christmas from 1974, we got to enjoy an opening scene where we saw everything through a panting psychopath's eye while he crept around outside a sorority house. In my opinion, this is far scarier than watching some girl be gutted or seeing some guy get decapitated by a chainsaw. The kind of scary you see in Friday the 13th and Halloween, although there were some bloody, gruesome scenes in those too, nothing in comparison to what you see today of course, is the best. Today's movies seem get increasingly violent, since people become more and more desensitized and require more gore in order to be shocked. Also, there is something special about those old movies, must be nostalgia. The best scary movie in the teen-slasher genre has to be Black Christmas. The eye appearing in the door crack is an absolutely classic scene. Jaws is another brilliant movie. To this day I can't bare to watch the scene where Quint gets eaten by the shark.

Air travel - a mixture of agony and serenity

Air travel is a mixed bag of nuts. I'm always relieved to find my seat, if for no other reason than to escape that seemingly never-ending aisle where you feel gawked upon by fellow travelers who have nothing else to do but sit and watch people board, at least if you fly SAS. Then as I sink into my seat, an odd serenity comes over me. I have my seat, I have my book, my job is over, now all I need to is relax. I can relax and do nothing but sit there for 8 hours and I'm not expected to do anything else. It's acceptable, and even preferable, to just sit there like a bump on a log and do nothing. Of course, those airplane seats aren't the most comfortable chairs in the world, and after a while the whole thing becomes a pain. The best thing about being in the air though is that you seem exist in a sort of vacuum. Certain things that are frowned upon on the ground are allowed up here, such as drinking alcohol with lunch. It also feels as though the troubles on the ground suddenly seem less important when you're in the air. While you're hovering somewhere between space and earth your main concern is to make it back safely onto the ground. There's also a sense of carelessness for me up there, things such as diets and sobriety don't matter.
The drawback is that you feel totally at the mercy of the flight crew. Suddenly the flight attendants become one of the most important people in your life because they're your source of food and drink. Don't think they don't know it either. Some of the flight attendants at SAS, particularly the older ones, take uppity to a whole new level. Of course, and this is the odd part since we're really their customers, not that many of us dare to give them attitude back, since we don't want to bite the hand that feeds us. In the air, people stop being lawyers, doctors or judges, and are forced to relinquish their status and power to the flight attendants. It doesn't matter who you are, unless you're flying first class, not that I can attest to that since I've had that privilege. Now and then, the captain, who in this case is God, speaks down to us from the speaker system and makes his presence known. Relinquishing power can be either a relief or a source of stress. Normally, a control freak like me hates to be powerless, but on an airplane I know I have to let go and let someone else fly the plane, literally, and there is a feeling of relief to just be able to relax and know that the only obligation I have is to hand the flight attendant my tray at the end of meal time.
I know I'm not the only one who feels awkward when answering the flight attendant's questions about what we want to drink and if we want chicken or beef. I've observed people's behaviour when the flight attendants are making their way down the aisle to take people's drink order or serve the meals. People go into preparation mode. They start to fold down their tables and take off their headphones even though the flight attendant is several rows behind them and won't get to them for another 5-10 minutes. But it takes concentration and rehearsal. You have to think, 'What do I want?' and then say it a few times in your head to make sure you get it right, because it's crucial. 'Chicken!' 'White wine'. 'Cheese sandwich'. Orange juice'. Not that many passengers manage to look super cool and casual while they're waiting. Meal times are the highlights of the whole flight. One of my favourite moments is when I get my Bloody Mary, my Gin and Tonic, or my glass of white wine, and a bag of snacks, and I can sink back in my chair and read Catcher in the Rye or some other good book, while slowly sipping my drink. This is even better than when they bring those little food trays with all the goodies. I am one of those people who actually enjoy airplane food. For some reason, food tastes better in the air.

Cutting down on Facebook

I've made the decision to significantly cut down on Facebook. There are several reasons behind this decision. First of all, recently I have found myself missing the days before Facebook entered my world, when we still emailed each other or even better, wrote each other real letters that you received in your real mailbox and not in an inbox on your computer. If I truly think about it I realize that I was happier without FB. The reason for this is that it killed the mystery for me. On FB I have re-connected with old classmates, old friends from college, old friends that I used to be rather close to but am not anymore, and people I barely know. In the beginning FB was a fun thing. It was fun to receive wall posts and messages and the whole thing had a lot of novelty value. And the poking thing was a rather fun thing to do. Then after a while it started to become routine to go into FB every morning despite the fact that the number of wall posts started to decrease along with the pokes, and messages were a very rare occurrence. After a while it started to bother me that the only thing hiding behind those alluring red flags that indicate that you have received something were from silly applications. Then some people started changing their status 50 times a day, announcing when and what they were eating, when they went to bed, when they got up, when they went shopping for kitchen supplies, when they had a beer in front of the TV, when they were watching TV and eating candy with their kids, and it was basically the same status', day after day after day after day. It began to grate on my nerves. Granted, this is perhaps the purpose of the status updates, to keep your contacts informed of your daily routines and events, but for me, it's not necessary. I don't want to give the impression that I'm dissing those who use FB for this very purpose, if they like it they should keep it up, all the power to 'em! I'm sure it's appreciated by a lot of people.

Then of course there is the fact that FB, with all its crappy applications, poorly made quizzes and mind-numbing games, takes up a lot of valuable time that would be better spent doing something more productive.

However that's a smaller reason in comparison to the real motive behind my choice to quit FB.
The main reason is that it killed my illusions. I have never had a very rich social life, and the reason for that may be obvious considering what I wrote above. I have never really learned how to be a good friend and how to open up to people and let them in, apart from with a precious few. I am lucky enough to have a few friends in which I can confide and with whom I am still close after many years. It is because of these friends that I haven't deactivated my FB account. Prior to FB, I managed to delude myself that the reason I wasn't close to people that I knew back in college or old roommates was simply because of distance and a lack of time. I had ignored the fact that we never exchanged emails anymore, it didn't even register in my mind, since I myself am tardy when it comes to emailing, and how can you expect to keep in touch with people if neither party is willing to make any effort. Then came FB and my friends list began to fill up with these old friends and I thought that it would be a great way to keep in touch and stay close, and at first it seemed to be. We'd comment on each others photo albums and post quick notes on each others walls. Instead of an email, we'd exchange a poke. Then after the initial welcome greeting and possible message catch-up, and perhaps some quick wall posts, we slowly started to drift away from each other, but this time there were no excuses for it. The truth was staring me square in the face: I'm not a very popular person! Not that I didn't already know this, but here it was confirmed, no excuses. Not that this is heartbreaking since popularity is something I stopped desiring a long time ago. By why revisit the past? FB is just another clique that I don't belong to. It's just another way to feel excluded. Another way to feel invisible. Another way not to be heard.
FB killed the magic for me. I would have preferred to keep that shroud of nostalgia and sentimentality that surrounded these old friends. I would have preferred to remember them the way they were back then and maintain the illusion that the reason we aren't close anymore is because of distance. However, things like FB puts an end to that, and one is left with no excuses. Most importantly though, I would have liked to have kept thinking of them as friends. Now our status, and I'm not referring to FB status this time, has changed to FB friends who rarely interact with each other. They've become just another name on a list, another number on my contacts list, another number to up the count, and we all know how important that count is don't we.