Monday, May 31, 2010
I can't help feeling sorry for Katie Holmes
I don't get wrapped up in the lives of celebrities, but I can't help feeling sorry for Katie Holmes. She looked happier before she met Tom Cruise. There's something eerie about that guy. I wouldn't want to be married to him. He gives me the shivers. Every time I see pictures of Katie Holmes now, I can't help but remember when she played Joey on Dawson's Creek, and I compare her to what she looks like now. Not that she looks bad, but she certainly looked happier before.
Sunday, May 30, 2010
Revenge of the angry neighbours
I live in a stairwell where there are 8 apartments. On the top floor there are 3 single women, all in their 50's and 60's. One has mental problems and talks loudly in a shrill voice but is a very sweet person. The second woman likes to renovate at night, something which drives Nick crazy, because she lives right above us. He has pounded on the ceiling to make her stop and left a note in her mail slot once, and both times the noise has stopped. On the middle floor is us on the right, a retired couple right next to us, and a couple in their late 50's who have a very large dog who likes to bark at all the other dogs in the neighbourhood. On the bottom floor, on the right side directly below us, lives a couple of young, quiet sisters who never make their presence known.
To the left lives a young couple, and the girl is making her neighbour's lives a nightmare on the weekends. They moved in in March, and the moment I saw the girl I knew right away just by looking at her what we were all in for. I was right. There are wild parties almost every weekend, Friday and Saturday. For some reason the boyfriend goes out of town for the weekend a lot, and when the cat's away, the mice will play.
This weekend they amused themselves with throwing their empty beer bottles on the lawn outside, as well as hurling them across the garage over at the parking lot, where the are plenty of cars that they might have hit. Thankfully they didn't hit our car. I say thankfully because Nick reacts with an unbelievable fury when it comes to his car, and he would probably have gone down there and hit someone, which would have only have gotten him in trouble. Anyway, the damn bottles are still laying around. She hasn't bothered to clean them up. We had to go out to the parking lot and clean up the glass shards that were laying around after they had their little bottle hurling contest, to avoid the dogs stepping on the glass and cutting up their paws.
You may well ask why nobody asked the skank herself to clean up her own mess. Well you see, there are certain people in this world that there is no point in confronting, because things will only get worse. Had we gone down there and asked her to please clean up her crap, the outcome would probably have been something like this:
We: "Please go out there and take care of your garbage"
Her: "Fuck off!"
Then the next thing that may have happened was that I would have taken one of the bottles and shoved it up her ass. It probably wouldn't have worked though, but I might have tried, or at least wanted to.
Anyway, this morning when I came back from my morning walk with Kelly, one of my neighbours came down the stairs and starts talking about the noise last night. This is the neighbour who lives right across from me, and thus he lives directly below these party animals. They were apparently up all night, unable to sleep due to the noise and the cigarette smoke that came up into their apartment, since 15 people had been standing out on the balcony downstairs puffing away.
My neighbour and I discussed the situation for a while and then comes the old retiree who lives next to me, and the first thing out of his mouth is "They have to go!" He was of course referring to the couple downstairs. They had also had a sleepless night, since they live above them as well. All three of us agreed that we should all complain repeatedly, and sooner or later they're bound to get evicted.
Nick and I discussed it over breakfast and suddenly we came up with a brilliant idea. We should all of us, all the other neighbours who are considerate towards each other, gang up and create a noise fest one night. We were laughing like hyenas as we were concocting the perfect plan.
Ok, here it goes. Picture it now, a dark stairwell, it's 6:00am on a Saturday morning, it's quiet, everybody is seemingly asleep. The losers downstairs have finally gone to bed after a whole night's loud partying, which kept their neighbours up of course. Everything is quiet. They're sleeping, the troubled sleep of the hammered, who know that they will wake up in 6-7 hours with a severe hangover.
This is when the fun really begins.
First, the retired couple on the middle floor suddenly breaks out into a very loud polka session with about 10 of their fellow buddies. They are all wearing clogs and are clapping and cheering and having a blast. Sweet sounds of a hearty accordion echoes through the stairwell.
Then, the middle-aged couple begins talking on their balcony. This may sound fairly harmless but it must be pointed out that the wife has one of those voices that can bend steel. Meanwhile, their large dog is tied up on the grass outside, right outside the balcony of the loud couple, and he's barking incessantly.
Then all of a sudden the women upstairs who has a mental disorder begins dropping marbles every 1 or 2 minutes from the top floor. They drop onto to the stone floor downstairs with a loud clatter. Incidentally, they land right in front of the loser's door.
Suddenly loud new wave music blares out from the other apartment downstairs. The two quiet girls may look harmless but they suddenly reveal themselves to be raging new age hippies with a distinct taste for that type of music.
The woman on the top floor who likes to renovate in the middle of the night suddenly begins drilling with a concrete drill. The noise pierces through the entire stairwell.
Meanwhile, the other woman on the top floor, who walks with a crutch, takes her garbage out, and somehow drags her crutch against the railing as she walks, something which always creates a very loud, echoing sound that one can hear very well inside the apartments.
In our apartment, Nick has finally received my blessing to play his most annoying techno music as loudly has he wants. Hence, the base is so loud that our furniture is almost hopping around on the floor.
The losers downstairs, who naturally awoke from their drunken slumber, opens their door and stick their heads out into the hallway and wonders what the hell is going on.
"Why, we're just having some fun, same as you are every weekend!" We all answer, with a cheerful smile.
Hey, we can dream can't we? You see, the truth is that just normal anger doesn't really do any good in these situations. If you confront people like the loud girl as a rational human being, all you're going to get is an argument. But, if you bring on the insanity, it is much more effective. Anger won't scare people off, but insanity will. If you see someone out on the street who is alone and is laughing hysterically for no apparent reason, you're going to avoid that person. Irrational behaviour is much more scary than just plain anger. So I say, don't retaliate with anger, respond with madness.
To the left lives a young couple, and the girl is making her neighbour's lives a nightmare on the weekends. They moved in in March, and the moment I saw the girl I knew right away just by looking at her what we were all in for. I was right. There are wild parties almost every weekend, Friday and Saturday. For some reason the boyfriend goes out of town for the weekend a lot, and when the cat's away, the mice will play.
This weekend they amused themselves with throwing their empty beer bottles on the lawn outside, as well as hurling them across the garage over at the parking lot, where the are plenty of cars that they might have hit. Thankfully they didn't hit our car. I say thankfully because Nick reacts with an unbelievable fury when it comes to his car, and he would probably have gone down there and hit someone, which would have only have gotten him in trouble. Anyway, the damn bottles are still laying around. She hasn't bothered to clean them up. We had to go out to the parking lot and clean up the glass shards that were laying around after they had their little bottle hurling contest, to avoid the dogs stepping on the glass and cutting up their paws.
You may well ask why nobody asked the skank herself to clean up her own mess. Well you see, there are certain people in this world that there is no point in confronting, because things will only get worse. Had we gone down there and asked her to please clean up her crap, the outcome would probably have been something like this:
We: "Please go out there and take care of your garbage"
Her: "Fuck off!"
Then the next thing that may have happened was that I would have taken one of the bottles and shoved it up her ass. It probably wouldn't have worked though, but I might have tried, or at least wanted to.
Anyway, this morning when I came back from my morning walk with Kelly, one of my neighbours came down the stairs and starts talking about the noise last night. This is the neighbour who lives right across from me, and thus he lives directly below these party animals. They were apparently up all night, unable to sleep due to the noise and the cigarette smoke that came up into their apartment, since 15 people had been standing out on the balcony downstairs puffing away.
My neighbour and I discussed the situation for a while and then comes the old retiree who lives next to me, and the first thing out of his mouth is "They have to go!" He was of course referring to the couple downstairs. They had also had a sleepless night, since they live above them as well. All three of us agreed that we should all complain repeatedly, and sooner or later they're bound to get evicted.
Nick and I discussed it over breakfast and suddenly we came up with a brilliant idea. We should all of us, all the other neighbours who are considerate towards each other, gang up and create a noise fest one night. We were laughing like hyenas as we were concocting the perfect plan.
Ok, here it goes. Picture it now, a dark stairwell, it's 6:00am on a Saturday morning, it's quiet, everybody is seemingly asleep. The losers downstairs have finally gone to bed after a whole night's loud partying, which kept their neighbours up of course. Everything is quiet. They're sleeping, the troubled sleep of the hammered, who know that they will wake up in 6-7 hours with a severe hangover.
This is when the fun really begins.
First, the retired couple on the middle floor suddenly breaks out into a very loud polka session with about 10 of their fellow buddies. They are all wearing clogs and are clapping and cheering and having a blast. Sweet sounds of a hearty accordion echoes through the stairwell.
Then, the middle-aged couple begins talking on their balcony. This may sound fairly harmless but it must be pointed out that the wife has one of those voices that can bend steel. Meanwhile, their large dog is tied up on the grass outside, right outside the balcony of the loud couple, and he's barking incessantly.
Then all of a sudden the women upstairs who has a mental disorder begins dropping marbles every 1 or 2 minutes from the top floor. They drop onto to the stone floor downstairs with a loud clatter. Incidentally, they land right in front of the loser's door.
Suddenly loud new wave music blares out from the other apartment downstairs. The two quiet girls may look harmless but they suddenly reveal themselves to be raging new age hippies with a distinct taste for that type of music.
The woman on the top floor who likes to renovate in the middle of the night suddenly begins drilling with a concrete drill. The noise pierces through the entire stairwell.
Meanwhile, the other woman on the top floor, who walks with a crutch, takes her garbage out, and somehow drags her crutch against the railing as she walks, something which always creates a very loud, echoing sound that one can hear very well inside the apartments.
In our apartment, Nick has finally received my blessing to play his most annoying techno music as loudly has he wants. Hence, the base is so loud that our furniture is almost hopping around on the floor.
The losers downstairs, who naturally awoke from their drunken slumber, opens their door and stick their heads out into the hallway and wonders what the hell is going on.
"Why, we're just having some fun, same as you are every weekend!" We all answer, with a cheerful smile.
Hey, we can dream can't we? You see, the truth is that just normal anger doesn't really do any good in these situations. If you confront people like the loud girl as a rational human being, all you're going to get is an argument. But, if you bring on the insanity, it is much more effective. Anger won't scare people off, but insanity will. If you see someone out on the street who is alone and is laughing hysterically for no apparent reason, you're going to avoid that person. Irrational behaviour is much more scary than just plain anger. So I say, don't retaliate with anger, respond with madness.
Saturday, May 29, 2010
He just can't see it!
Nick cooks, and the kitchen is in a shambles. There are drops of food on the stove that have now dried up and stuck to it, that I have to scrub off. There are pots and pans piled up in one sink and dishes in the other one. The counter has not been wiped, and as always when Nick cooks there is flour on it, since he often batters and deep fries his food, to my great dismay.
Then there is the coffee table in the living room. There is an ever-going battle over that table. It's a matter of turf at this point. He's trying to overtake it with his camera stuff and technical gadgets and I keep urging him to put it away, which he won't unless we have company coming over. Finally I usually end up pushing it towards one end of the table so that I at least can clean. We have a candle tray made of glass on the kitchen. On it right now is a lonely candle, and Nick's cloth that he uses to wipe off his computer screen. Even the candle tray is under attack.
Then there are the dust bunnies, which are either doing the tango or making out, on the verge of breeding more little bunnies. He doesn't see them! I see them, but I don't think he does. I see the gravel in the hallway, but he doesn't. I see the stack of old fliers that need to be taken to recycling, does he? Nope!
When the sink is full of grime and the toilet bowl stained with delicious little brown spots, who do you think sees it and cleans it? Moi!
I used to think that he doesn't see it, but maybe he doesn't. A lot of men have this amazing capacity for turning a blind eye to messes. They simply do not notice when something needs to be cleaned. Even when it's begging for it. Or perhaps they do see but don't care. Either way, it can get on your nerves. I happen to like cleaning. I find it refreshing, and it's a great way to work off stress. I like scrubbing things until they shine, and I love the feeling that I get afterwards when the place is sparkling, well as sparkling as our place can get with all of Nick's gear laying around.
They say it's biological. Men don't see details in the home the way women do. During the stone age, it was women who stayed at home and tended to the cave while the men went out and found food. It must be innate for some men to be slobs.
Then there is the coffee table in the living room. There is an ever-going battle over that table. It's a matter of turf at this point. He's trying to overtake it with his camera stuff and technical gadgets and I keep urging him to put it away, which he won't unless we have company coming over. Finally I usually end up pushing it towards one end of the table so that I at least can clean. We have a candle tray made of glass on the kitchen. On it right now is a lonely candle, and Nick's cloth that he uses to wipe off his computer screen. Even the candle tray is under attack.
Then there are the dust bunnies, which are either doing the tango or making out, on the verge of breeding more little bunnies. He doesn't see them! I see them, but I don't think he does. I see the gravel in the hallway, but he doesn't. I see the stack of old fliers that need to be taken to recycling, does he? Nope!
When the sink is full of grime and the toilet bowl stained with delicious little brown spots, who do you think sees it and cleans it? Moi!
I used to think that he doesn't see it, but maybe he doesn't. A lot of men have this amazing capacity for turning a blind eye to messes. They simply do not notice when something needs to be cleaned. Even when it's begging for it. Or perhaps they do see but don't care. Either way, it can get on your nerves. I happen to like cleaning. I find it refreshing, and it's a great way to work off stress. I like scrubbing things until they shine, and I love the feeling that I get afterwards when the place is sparkling, well as sparkling as our place can get with all of Nick's gear laying around.
They say it's biological. Men don't see details in the home the way women do. During the stone age, it was women who stayed at home and tended to the cave while the men went out and found food. It must be innate for some men to be slobs.
Thursday, May 27, 2010
Things that I would never do
1. Stand in line to get into a club where the bouncers are arrogant and rude. In fact, I wouldn't stand in line for more than 15 minutes to get into a any club, period. It's always puzzled me why people are willing to stand around for hours to get into some overcrowded place where the staff is rude, the dance floor is too crowded and the music is too loud. And before you go on to say that I'm too old to appreciate it, let me say that I have never been a fan of this scene. Not even when I was 18. There is no way that I would let some bouncer on a power trip treat me like a sheep.
2. Visit some place like Hong Kong or Beijing. Why would I want to push myself through the polluted, crowded streets of such a densely populated city when I can explore the moors and mountains of Scotland, visit the hot springs in Iceland or tour the Gold Coast of Australia, to name just a few locations that I'm dying to see. China comes way down on the list. However, it would be interesting to hike up the Great Wall and see some of China's nature.
3. Live in Stockholm again. I'm sorry, I just cannot stand that place. It's too bad that you have to go through Stockholm in order to visit the archipelago.
4. Sit through the movie "The Beach" again. Last time I had to force myself to go to sleep in the movie theater just to escape. I should have just walked out, but I was with someone.
5. Go backpacking in a rush again. In fact, backpacking period. I doubt I will ever do that again, but if I do it will be in style, with a suitcase and without the obsession of seeing as much as possible in a very short time. Back in 95, I spent 4 horrendous weeks tracking around Europe with two friends, who argued with each other incessantly, and who both had to be completely in charge, which left me with very little to decide on. Come to think of it, this is yet another clue to my increasing need for control. Anyway, I wouldn't recommend to anyone to rush through Europe just because they want to be able to tell people that "I've been there, and there, and there, and there...". It's much better to take one's time and visit only a few places but instead focus on getting some quality time there, and really experiencing it. How do you truly experience a city like Rome or Paris in just 1 or 2 days? You don't. The way we backpacked in 95 was more hysterical than anything else. Like we were on a mission. Actually, 2 people were on a mission and the third one was just the stooge that went along for the ride.
6. Eat dim sum. I'm sorry Dianne, I know you're probably mad at me for this, but I can't eat it. I promise, if you won't force me to eat dim sum, I won't force you to eat fermented herring. There are certain delicacies in my home country that I would never expect people from other countries to enjoy, fermented herring is one of them. In that same spirit, I ask to be spared from dim sum. I think I would panic if someone put a bowl of pork dumplings in front of me, particularly since I don't eat pork. The reason I don't eat pork is for moral reasons. I once saw a clip from a pig farm and some asshole was beating a pig with a long iron rod, and the pig was screaming with pain. It broke my heart. I know this doesn't go on in all pig farms, but the way that pig was screaming, it sounded like a human being, and I can't get it out my head. I don't even want to eat pork anymore, I've lost my appetite for it. I don't miss it.
2. Visit some place like Hong Kong or Beijing. Why would I want to push myself through the polluted, crowded streets of such a densely populated city when I can explore the moors and mountains of Scotland, visit the hot springs in Iceland or tour the Gold Coast of Australia, to name just a few locations that I'm dying to see. China comes way down on the list. However, it would be interesting to hike up the Great Wall and see some of China's nature.
3. Live in Stockholm again. I'm sorry, I just cannot stand that place. It's too bad that you have to go through Stockholm in order to visit the archipelago.
4. Sit through the movie "The Beach" again. Last time I had to force myself to go to sleep in the movie theater just to escape. I should have just walked out, but I was with someone.
5. Go backpacking in a rush again. In fact, backpacking period. I doubt I will ever do that again, but if I do it will be in style, with a suitcase and without the obsession of seeing as much as possible in a very short time. Back in 95, I spent 4 horrendous weeks tracking around Europe with two friends, who argued with each other incessantly, and who both had to be completely in charge, which left me with very little to decide on. Come to think of it, this is yet another clue to my increasing need for control. Anyway, I wouldn't recommend to anyone to rush through Europe just because they want to be able to tell people that "I've been there, and there, and there, and there...". It's much better to take one's time and visit only a few places but instead focus on getting some quality time there, and really experiencing it. How do you truly experience a city like Rome or Paris in just 1 or 2 days? You don't. The way we backpacked in 95 was more hysterical than anything else. Like we were on a mission. Actually, 2 people were on a mission and the third one was just the stooge that went along for the ride.
6. Eat dim sum. I'm sorry Dianne, I know you're probably mad at me for this, but I can't eat it. I promise, if you won't force me to eat dim sum, I won't force you to eat fermented herring. There are certain delicacies in my home country that I would never expect people from other countries to enjoy, fermented herring is one of them. In that same spirit, I ask to be spared from dim sum. I think I would panic if someone put a bowl of pork dumplings in front of me, particularly since I don't eat pork. The reason I don't eat pork is for moral reasons. I once saw a clip from a pig farm and some asshole was beating a pig with a long iron rod, and the pig was screaming with pain. It broke my heart. I know this doesn't go on in all pig farms, but the way that pig was screaming, it sounded like a human being, and I can't get it out my head. I don't even want to eat pork anymore, I've lost my appetite for it. I don't miss it.
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
Youth or mother?
Today this young guy rang on my doorbell. Kelly gave him a good barking of course. He said that he was out visiting young people and families with small children in the neighbourhood.
I don't have any kids, and I can't exactly claim to fall under the category of "youth" anymore either. So I wonder, which one of these target groups did he think I belong to. I should have asked him. Wouldn't it be nice if it was the youth category.
I told the guy I wasn't interested and he was really a good sport about it. There was no trying coerce his way in, he just accepted it and moved on. He just asked me where he might find young people living in the same building.
Anyway, what do I look like, youth or a mother?
I don't have any kids, and I can't exactly claim to fall under the category of "youth" anymore either. So I wonder, which one of these target groups did he think I belong to. I should have asked him. Wouldn't it be nice if it was the youth category.
I told the guy I wasn't interested and he was really a good sport about it. There was no trying coerce his way in, he just accepted it and moved on. He just asked me where he might find young people living in the same building.
Anyway, what do I look like, youth or a mother?
Control freak with a Peter Pan complex
My good friend wrote in her blog about how she is reluctant to make a change and strive for more, because she has a secure job which she's content doing. She's not making huge progress, but she's relatively happy doing what she's doing. I wish I could be more like that. In a way I do. I would hate the monotony of doing the same thing day after day, but it's part of having to grow up I suppose. That's what a job usually is. Having a boss is something most people have to deal with.
I wish I could.
In every single full time job I've had, I've done well at first and then once I've mastered it and once it becomes a routine, I become so utterly bored that I begin to make stupid mistakes. When I was 18 I got my first full time job working at the mall. It wasn't a bad job. It was in photo frame and picture/printed art store, and the job sometimes involved looking at art prints and framing pictures. This I didn't mind at all. I discovered Elvis at this time and I got to peruse the folders with paintings and prints and order things at a very good employee discount. Sooner or later though, it all became so mundane and routine that I started to hate the customers. Everyday was the same. Watching people dig through the purses for small change. This was in the days before bank cards and pin machines. I started giving people too little change back. Finally my boss got fed up and I was replaced. I was never actually fired, just slowly phased out.
A few years later I worked in a grocery store, and I started making the same mistakes there. Giving people a 10 back when they should be getting a 50, that kind of stuff.
While routines turn me into a zombie, having a boss to answer to turns me into a crabby bitch. I have always had a tendency to be a control freak, and it's only gotten worse over the years. For me, a permanent job with a boss is suffocating. I start to resent my bosses. I almost always do. I know I'm wrong, but I can't help feeling that they are in control of my whole life. I simply don't like to have to answer to anyone. I know that this is immature and not at all practical, but there it is. To top it off, I'm not a team player. I'm a lone wolf. I work fast and I do my best, but don't ask me to work in a team, at least not when I comes to creative work. In working with data entry, which I do on an on-call basis, I am like a robot. I work fast and my only focus is getting the job done and going home. Hardly the attitude that is needed to advance in a company is it.
Then there is the feeling of a lack of freedom from being locked into a job day after day, performing the same tedious tasks. I wonder if I were to feel differently about this if it was something as stimulating as working as a writer for a magazine. Most probably. Unfortunately this type of opportunity has yet to come my way. So the only experiences I have to draw upon are menial, dead-end jobs where I have felt like a drone. Even a brief stint I did summarizing and translating newspaper articles for an information company was mind-numbing after a while. The facts still remain that I'm simply not a 9-5 person. Routines are like death to my spirit. I wish it wasn't so, because that would make life a whole lot easier.
So now I work irregular hours, and sometimes I have very little work. I'm all over the place, going from teaching to interpreting, from interpreting to translating, from translating to some occasional data entry. Somehow I make ends meet. My only comfort is that at least I'm my own boss and my schedule is varied.
I'm like Peter Pan, I refuse to grow up. A darker, crankier version of Peter Pan, with a need for constant control.
I wish I could.
In every single full time job I've had, I've done well at first and then once I've mastered it and once it becomes a routine, I become so utterly bored that I begin to make stupid mistakes. When I was 18 I got my first full time job working at the mall. It wasn't a bad job. It was in photo frame and picture/printed art store, and the job sometimes involved looking at art prints and framing pictures. This I didn't mind at all. I discovered Elvis at this time and I got to peruse the folders with paintings and prints and order things at a very good employee discount. Sooner or later though, it all became so mundane and routine that I started to hate the customers. Everyday was the same. Watching people dig through the purses for small change. This was in the days before bank cards and pin machines. I started giving people too little change back. Finally my boss got fed up and I was replaced. I was never actually fired, just slowly phased out.
A few years later I worked in a grocery store, and I started making the same mistakes there. Giving people a 10 back when they should be getting a 50, that kind of stuff.
While routines turn me into a zombie, having a boss to answer to turns me into a crabby bitch. I have always had a tendency to be a control freak, and it's only gotten worse over the years. For me, a permanent job with a boss is suffocating. I start to resent my bosses. I almost always do. I know I'm wrong, but I can't help feeling that they are in control of my whole life. I simply don't like to have to answer to anyone. I know that this is immature and not at all practical, but there it is. To top it off, I'm not a team player. I'm a lone wolf. I work fast and I do my best, but don't ask me to work in a team, at least not when I comes to creative work. In working with data entry, which I do on an on-call basis, I am like a robot. I work fast and my only focus is getting the job done and going home. Hardly the attitude that is needed to advance in a company is it.
Then there is the feeling of a lack of freedom from being locked into a job day after day, performing the same tedious tasks. I wonder if I were to feel differently about this if it was something as stimulating as working as a writer for a magazine. Most probably. Unfortunately this type of opportunity has yet to come my way. So the only experiences I have to draw upon are menial, dead-end jobs where I have felt like a drone. Even a brief stint I did summarizing and translating newspaper articles for an information company was mind-numbing after a while. The facts still remain that I'm simply not a 9-5 person. Routines are like death to my spirit. I wish it wasn't so, because that would make life a whole lot easier.
So now I work irregular hours, and sometimes I have very little work. I'm all over the place, going from teaching to interpreting, from interpreting to translating, from translating to some occasional data entry. Somehow I make ends meet. My only comfort is that at least I'm my own boss and my schedule is varied.
I'm like Peter Pan, I refuse to grow up. A darker, crankier version of Peter Pan, with a need for constant control.
Monday, May 24, 2010
Madness
Since I didn't accomplish anything else I set out to do today, I will at least do this.
I had intended to go to the gym. At first I was going to go in the morning, but then due to a headache I decided to wait until lunch time. At lunch time I got caught up in something and decided I'd go at 3pm instead. When it was nearing 3pm I was feeling ill. My stomach was hurting and I didn't feel good at all, so I decided to go to the gym in the evening instead. Well, it's now almost 8pm and I still haven't gone. Nor did I write on my book as I set out to do. Today has simply been a crappy day all around.
At least I will write a little bit on one of my favourite topics - madness. I was chatting with a good friend this morning and she said that she was spring cleaning her house. It was 3:00am in her time zone! I can well imagine if I had started cleaning in the middle of the night when I lived at home with my parents. They would have thought I was stark raving mad. My mom would have stuck her head out the bedroom door and hissed:
"What the hell are you doing! Have you lost your mind?? Go to bed!"
Not in my friend's house. There always seems to be someone awake there. I've told her that her house is a madhouse. Madness lurks behind each door. This really appeals to me. A house full of oddities. I grew up in a home where I was often alone and even when my parents were home there wasn't much going on. I dreamed of living in a house where there lived a lot of people and where something was always happening. That's why when I was 14 I started a book called "The Funny Farm", about a big house where 7 people lived together. Something was always happening. People were always coming and going. Somebody was almost always awake and there were people arguing, an old lady baking, all kinds of activities, you name it. Each chapter contained some event, such as the adults being away for the weekend and the teenagers ending up sleeping in the same fold-out couch for some reason.
Initially it was a normal book with normal people and regular stories. Then as I grew older I grew more dark and troubled. I started becoming depressed, and with this depression the stories turned a dark corner. Now instead of being a relatively normal household, everyone became mean and extremely troubled. The old lady who used to bake and cook disappeared into her bedroom where she spent her days and nights sleeping and only came out into the kitchen in her nightie to drink water, only to again disappear into her bedroom and slam the door behind her.
One of the characters, the character who had previously been the most forward and active, turned into a catatonic vegetable who spent his day sitting in a corner of the hallway staring into space. Sometimes he would bang his head against the wall.
Another character turned into a psychopath who was prone to violent outbursts, where he would ferociously do karate chops and kicks in the air, for no apparent reason.
The other characters were no rays of sunshine either. And everyone suffered from the same problem, malnutrition. As an added bonus to the outbreak of insanity, the front yard was blocked by local hooligans who had taken a very severe disliking to the inhabitants of the Funny Farm, and who would always stand outside the house hurling insults and throwing rotten eggs and tomatoes at the windows. If one of the people inside the house dared so much as stick their noses outside, the hooligans would get them. This meant that they couldn't go to the grocery store. So they lived on stale buttermilk, dry, hard bread and dried meat. Where they got this from and how they always managed to have a supply of this but nothing else was never explained.
I loved every minute of writing about it. I was into the story while writing it that I would laugh out loud. The characters became so real that they felt like real people. This is what writing is all about for me. Emerging myself in this fantasy world that I've created. The reason that this story turned so dark, and the reason I am still prone to venture into the field of the absurd, is because madness has always fascinated me. That's why my favourite subject within the field of Psychology has always been Abnormal Psych. What other people find dark or disturbing, I find incredibly interesting, and sometimes even funny. Inside a movie theater, I'm the person who laughs like an idiot at things that other people don't find remotely funny. For example, when I saw "Pretty Woman" for the first time in the movie theater, I laughed when Vivian tries to get her glasses unfolded at the opera but can't and says 'These are broken! Mine are broken!'.
I was the only person who laughed.
I had intended to go to the gym. At first I was going to go in the morning, but then due to a headache I decided to wait until lunch time. At lunch time I got caught up in something and decided I'd go at 3pm instead. When it was nearing 3pm I was feeling ill. My stomach was hurting and I didn't feel good at all, so I decided to go to the gym in the evening instead. Well, it's now almost 8pm and I still haven't gone. Nor did I write on my book as I set out to do. Today has simply been a crappy day all around.
At least I will write a little bit on one of my favourite topics - madness. I was chatting with a good friend this morning and she said that she was spring cleaning her house. It was 3:00am in her time zone! I can well imagine if I had started cleaning in the middle of the night when I lived at home with my parents. They would have thought I was stark raving mad. My mom would have stuck her head out the bedroom door and hissed:
"What the hell are you doing! Have you lost your mind?? Go to bed!"
Not in my friend's house. There always seems to be someone awake there. I've told her that her house is a madhouse. Madness lurks behind each door. This really appeals to me. A house full of oddities. I grew up in a home where I was often alone and even when my parents were home there wasn't much going on. I dreamed of living in a house where there lived a lot of people and where something was always happening. That's why when I was 14 I started a book called "The Funny Farm", about a big house where 7 people lived together. Something was always happening. People were always coming and going. Somebody was almost always awake and there were people arguing, an old lady baking, all kinds of activities, you name it. Each chapter contained some event, such as the adults being away for the weekend and the teenagers ending up sleeping in the same fold-out couch for some reason.
Initially it was a normal book with normal people and regular stories. Then as I grew older I grew more dark and troubled. I started becoming depressed, and with this depression the stories turned a dark corner. Now instead of being a relatively normal household, everyone became mean and extremely troubled. The old lady who used to bake and cook disappeared into her bedroom where she spent her days and nights sleeping and only came out into the kitchen in her nightie to drink water, only to again disappear into her bedroom and slam the door behind her.
One of the characters, the character who had previously been the most forward and active, turned into a catatonic vegetable who spent his day sitting in a corner of the hallway staring into space. Sometimes he would bang his head against the wall.
Another character turned into a psychopath who was prone to violent outbursts, where he would ferociously do karate chops and kicks in the air, for no apparent reason.
The other characters were no rays of sunshine either. And everyone suffered from the same problem, malnutrition. As an added bonus to the outbreak of insanity, the front yard was blocked by local hooligans who had taken a very severe disliking to the inhabitants of the Funny Farm, and who would always stand outside the house hurling insults and throwing rotten eggs and tomatoes at the windows. If one of the people inside the house dared so much as stick their noses outside, the hooligans would get them. This meant that they couldn't go to the grocery store. So they lived on stale buttermilk, dry, hard bread and dried meat. Where they got this from and how they always managed to have a supply of this but nothing else was never explained.
I loved every minute of writing about it. I was into the story while writing it that I would laugh out loud. The characters became so real that they felt like real people. This is what writing is all about for me. Emerging myself in this fantasy world that I've created. The reason that this story turned so dark, and the reason I am still prone to venture into the field of the absurd, is because madness has always fascinated me. That's why my favourite subject within the field of Psychology has always been Abnormal Psych. What other people find dark or disturbing, I find incredibly interesting, and sometimes even funny. Inside a movie theater, I'm the person who laughs like an idiot at things that other people don't find remotely funny. For example, when I saw "Pretty Woman" for the first time in the movie theater, I laughed when Vivian tries to get her glasses unfolded at the opera but can't and says 'These are broken! Mine are broken!'.
I was the only person who laughed.
Saturday, May 22, 2010
Single = half a person?
I'm not single now, but it felt like I was single for forever before I finally found my very first boyfriend, at the (not so tender) age of 23. At this point I had already become an established spinster, without any real prospects of ever meeting anybody. I was this genderless half-person who lived life on the outskirts of society. I existed on the fringes of my friend's relationships. I was the loner. The perpetual third wheel. All of my friends had relationships. When I was in junior high I hung with some friends who weren't that popular with the opposite sex either, but they all managed to find boyfriends fairly soon after, or during, high school. Only I remained the secluded virgin, sequestered in my childhood room where I could only dream of love. That room became my universe, my haven, the place where I dream of something more. I nurtured my budding need for romance with elaborate fantasies about celebrities that I thought were hot and watched a lot of T.V and movies. I never went out dancing or did much of the things that people my own age usually did because reality could never quite measure up to fiction. And there is something shameful attached to being over 20 and never having had a boyfriend. It makes you an abnormality. You're like something that you could have found in the freak show in Vaudeville in the 1920's. There's the bearded lady, the dwarfs, and then there's you - the girl who's 21 and has never been kissed. The perpetual virgin. The boyfriend of a friend once asked my friend, when they were talking about me and my lack of a love life, "Does it grow shut?" You can guess what he was referring to. See, so in a way, if you're over 20 and still single, people begin to view you as not quite a whole person. You're someone to be pitied, joked about, whispered about behind your back, fretted over, but you are not a fully functioning human being. I was like a ghost. I existed but I didn't live. I hovered around my attached friends. I lingered in the background. Hung out at their houses with them and their boyfriends because I had nothing better to do with my time. I was that freak of nature. I could be almost as gruff as I wanted and say almost anything without people getting angry with me because I was like that eccentric old spinster aunt in the family, who says whatever pops into her head and people won't take her seriously anyway because 'Oh...that's just old Ada's way". The funny part is, I was only in my early twenties. Young in general terms but old when it comes to matters of the heart. Ancient according the society's standards for how old you should be when you have your first boyfriend. How bizarre it is, when you think about it.
The world caters to couples. If you're an adult and not in a relationship or at least dating, there must be something missing. Especially for women. Women who are single are looked at as slightly desperate and pathetic, as if they're not really complete without a man. It doesn't matter if he's ugly or a total loser, as long as it's a relationship.
For men it's different. They don't have such stigma as "spinster" attached to them. They're just bachelors and that's okay since they're sowing their wild oats as men should. Mothers want their sons to find someone however since they need somebody to take care of them. I find that's very common, not only with mothers but with women in general. The most important criteria in a girlfriend is "Does she cook for you?"
Since I've been a genderless "freak", I would like for all the single women out there who have never had boyfriends and who are down on themselves to stop putting themselves down. I know what it's like to wish for love to come along but you're not half the undesirable freak that you may think you are. It just feels that way.
The world caters to couples. If you're an adult and not in a relationship or at least dating, there must be something missing. Especially for women. Women who are single are looked at as slightly desperate and pathetic, as if they're not really complete without a man. It doesn't matter if he's ugly or a total loser, as long as it's a relationship.
For men it's different. They don't have such stigma as "spinster" attached to them. They're just bachelors and that's okay since they're sowing their wild oats as men should. Mothers want their sons to find someone however since they need somebody to take care of them. I find that's very common, not only with mothers but with women in general. The most important criteria in a girlfriend is "Does she cook for you?"
Since I've been a genderless "freak", I would like for all the single women out there who have never had boyfriends and who are down on themselves to stop putting themselves down. I know what it's like to wish for love to come along but you're not half the undesirable freak that you may think you are. It just feels that way.
Friday, May 21, 2010
Somewhere out there...
...is a team of script writers of soaps who are laughing their asses off at how involved people on soap forums are in their favourite soap.
For Sleepless in Vancouver
Because she asked for it.
I have been housecleaning all afternoon. My apartment now smells like flowers, well, not real flowers, but flower scented floor Ajax. It's a good feeling.
I was going to free write and perhaps I will do that. Yes, I shall do that, When you free write yo come up with some pretty illuminating stuff. I remember when I was in my early twenties, and late teens for that matter, and I looked like a loon with my frizzy hair, huge glasses, big knockers and clothe with shoulder pads, and eye brows like two thumbs. My face was round, like I had two large grapes in each cheek. Although I did get a haircut when I was 20. I got it cut like Jackie O, since I admired her at this stage and I wanted to resemble her. Incidentally, I also dressed like her. I bought this light blue skirt suit that was very 60's. I wore if for Sir L. 50th birthday party. Oh and you know what, I do believe that my walking style has been molded by Jackie O. I don't even know anymore since it's my walk and I have no control over it anymore.
Anyway, the point I am trying to make in this rambling post is that I was totally invisible to the opposite sex. You should have seen me. I was pretty much without a gender. I never sent out any signals. Didn't have any idea how to flirt. I was a dud. I was like a 75 year old, and lived like one too. No dating, no life, not even male friends. Not a single one.
This wasn't so strange since I grew up in the city of Östersund, where attractive males are hard to come by, in my opinion anyway. They just didn't seem to fit me. I never met anybody I found attractive. Well, perhaps a few, but they were always completely unattainable, and perhaps that was the attraction. It was safe that way because I knew that nothing could ever come of it. They would always remain just a fantasy. I think I spent more energy fantasizing about celebrities than real guys.
The real guys just always seemed to view me as a freak. At least that's how I felt. The odd part is that this is still somewhat true. When I'm back here, the old Linda comes sneaking back and I feel unattractive and undesirable to men here. Not that I'm looking, and not that I need validation from other men anyway. I'm just thinking that sometimes when we don't have much luck with meeting anyone, we should perhaps looks elsewhere.
I came to Canada and everything changed. I suddenly realized that maybe I could be attractive to guys after all. I wasn't this sexless being who was forever meant to live in the shadow of the few female friends she had. An appendix. Auntie Linda. Invisible Linda. Spinster Linda. I wasn't that person anymore. My point is, that in order to find someone, we sometimes need to widen our net. If it's not working for you the way things are now, perhaps something needs to change. You don't have to move across the world, but maybe you need to look in places you ordinarily wouldn't look in. Take some chances. Explore other options.
Flirting is fun. It really is. You just have to relax a little. Don't be so self-aware all the time. Of course, flirting requires another person. That person will come along, sooner or later. And then, maybe another person, and then maybe another. You know me, I think one has to sample the merchandise before you make a final purchase. In order to find the best cantaloupe you have to weed through the bruised and rotten ones. And the only way to spot a good cantaloupe is to taste some rotten ones, then you have something to compare to. Just a thought. I should stop yammering now, because I could go on writing for hours.
I will add this though. I always used to think that having passion and going with your gut is the best thing. Everything will work out as long as you follow your heart. The latter is not true! Sometimes following your heart will get you into a flaming mess. I've been there. What you said in your reply to you post, that you need to learn the art of being nonchalant, well that's not the worst thing in the world to know. I've become a lot more independent and nonchalant lately, and I'll tell you, it really gives you a lot more peace of mind. Once you learn to let go of trying to change people or trying to influence their actions or feelings, you feel a lot calmer. It really makes a huge difference. You can change yourself, but you can never change other people. They're going to do whatever it is they want to do, so why even try to influence that? In the end they're the ones in charge, just like you're the one in charge of your life. Jeez, I sound like some corny talk show. I hate talk shows.
I'll stop here.
I have been housecleaning all afternoon. My apartment now smells like flowers, well, not real flowers, but flower scented floor Ajax. It's a good feeling.
I was going to free write and perhaps I will do that. Yes, I shall do that, When you free write yo come up with some pretty illuminating stuff. I remember when I was in my early twenties, and late teens for that matter, and I looked like a loon with my frizzy hair, huge glasses, big knockers and clothe with shoulder pads, and eye brows like two thumbs. My face was round, like I had two large grapes in each cheek. Although I did get a haircut when I was 20. I got it cut like Jackie O, since I admired her at this stage and I wanted to resemble her. Incidentally, I also dressed like her. I bought this light blue skirt suit that was very 60's. I wore if for Sir L. 50th birthday party. Oh and you know what, I do believe that my walking style has been molded by Jackie O. I don't even know anymore since it's my walk and I have no control over it anymore.
Anyway, the point I am trying to make in this rambling post is that I was totally invisible to the opposite sex. You should have seen me. I was pretty much without a gender. I never sent out any signals. Didn't have any idea how to flirt. I was a dud. I was like a 75 year old, and lived like one too. No dating, no life, not even male friends. Not a single one.
This wasn't so strange since I grew up in the city of Östersund, where attractive males are hard to come by, in my opinion anyway. They just didn't seem to fit me. I never met anybody I found attractive. Well, perhaps a few, but they were always completely unattainable, and perhaps that was the attraction. It was safe that way because I knew that nothing could ever come of it. They would always remain just a fantasy. I think I spent more energy fantasizing about celebrities than real guys.
The real guys just always seemed to view me as a freak. At least that's how I felt. The odd part is that this is still somewhat true. When I'm back here, the old Linda comes sneaking back and I feel unattractive and undesirable to men here. Not that I'm looking, and not that I need validation from other men anyway. I'm just thinking that sometimes when we don't have much luck with meeting anyone, we should perhaps looks elsewhere.
I came to Canada and everything changed. I suddenly realized that maybe I could be attractive to guys after all. I wasn't this sexless being who was forever meant to live in the shadow of the few female friends she had. An appendix. Auntie Linda. Invisible Linda. Spinster Linda. I wasn't that person anymore. My point is, that in order to find someone, we sometimes need to widen our net. If it's not working for you the way things are now, perhaps something needs to change. You don't have to move across the world, but maybe you need to look in places you ordinarily wouldn't look in. Take some chances. Explore other options.
Flirting is fun. It really is. You just have to relax a little. Don't be so self-aware all the time. Of course, flirting requires another person. That person will come along, sooner or later. And then, maybe another person, and then maybe another. You know me, I think one has to sample the merchandise before you make a final purchase. In order to find the best cantaloupe you have to weed through the bruised and rotten ones. And the only way to spot a good cantaloupe is to taste some rotten ones, then you have something to compare to. Just a thought. I should stop yammering now, because I could go on writing for hours.
I will add this though. I always used to think that having passion and going with your gut is the best thing. Everything will work out as long as you follow your heart. The latter is not true! Sometimes following your heart will get you into a flaming mess. I've been there. What you said in your reply to you post, that you need to learn the art of being nonchalant, well that's not the worst thing in the world to know. I've become a lot more independent and nonchalant lately, and I'll tell you, it really gives you a lot more peace of mind. Once you learn to let go of trying to change people or trying to influence their actions or feelings, you feel a lot calmer. It really makes a huge difference. You can change yourself, but you can never change other people. They're going to do whatever it is they want to do, so why even try to influence that? In the end they're the ones in charge, just like you're the one in charge of your life. Jeez, I sound like some corny talk show. I hate talk shows.
I'll stop here.
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
Enough already!
I know I've mentioned my dislike of the monarchy system before, but I feel I must vent on this topic yet again. These days it's hard to escape this circus because of the upcoming wedding between Sweden's crown princess and her boyfriend. It's everywhere you go. It's in the newspaper, on T.V, and a major candy company has even launched 'wedding chocolates', in specially designed royal looking boxes. You are bombarded with this nonsense everywhere you go. You can enter contests and win a box of royal chocolates so that you "can munch on chocolates like a real princess". It's quite amusing if you think about it.
I should like to keep a distanced attitude towards it all and laugh at it, rather than get annoyed, but I find it hard since I consider it a slap in the face to those that didn't happen to born within that particular family. Are the rest of us supposed to be lesser beings just because our ancestry isn't 'fancy' enough?
It's a piece of history, yes of course, but history belongs in a museum, to be explored, studied and even revered, but it does not have a place in modern society where we are supposed to live in a democracy. In a democracy, all people are equal. One can't live according to a monarchy system and still claim to be a democracy, since a monarchy perpetuates a class system, where certain people are regarded as better than others.
This is and will always be what my dislike of the monarchy system is all about. It's not about money. It's about equality.
And all this malarkey about how wrong it is for a princess marrying "a man of the people" is just that, malarkey. It amazes me how people in this day and age can spout such outdated garbage.
There, I've vented. I will just have to put on blinders for another month so that I can escape all this royal hoopla, and pray for the day when Sweden joins the modern world and becomes a true democracy. I know for a fact that it will not happen while I am living here, but let's hope it happens eventually.
We anti-monarchists aren't evil communists. We just want everyone to be treated equally.
I should like to keep a distanced attitude towards it all and laugh at it, rather than get annoyed, but I find it hard since I consider it a slap in the face to those that didn't happen to born within that particular family. Are the rest of us supposed to be lesser beings just because our ancestry isn't 'fancy' enough?
It's a piece of history, yes of course, but history belongs in a museum, to be explored, studied and even revered, but it does not have a place in modern society where we are supposed to live in a democracy. In a democracy, all people are equal. One can't live according to a monarchy system and still claim to be a democracy, since a monarchy perpetuates a class system, where certain people are regarded as better than others.
This is and will always be what my dislike of the monarchy system is all about. It's not about money. It's about equality.
And all this malarkey about how wrong it is for a princess marrying "a man of the people" is just that, malarkey. It amazes me how people in this day and age can spout such outdated garbage.
There, I've vented. I will just have to put on blinders for another month so that I can escape all this royal hoopla, and pray for the day when Sweden joins the modern world and becomes a true democracy. I know for a fact that it will not happen while I am living here, but let's hope it happens eventually.
We anti-monarchists aren't evil communists. We just want everyone to be treated equally.
Saturday, May 15, 2010
I have maternal instincts, who knew!
There's no doubt now that my maternal instincts have kicked in. It took time but here they are. My biological clock has started ticking. It used to be that I didn't really like kids all that much. I was insecure around them. I could never figure out what the fuss was. I hated it when during social functions where there was a baby present, everyone would faun over the baby and go "Awwww!!!". I mostly just looked it at from a distance, as though it was some sort of foreign object. Because it was expected of me, I would go closer and perhaps even stick out my finger and have the baby grab it, but this was only for appearances sake.
Older kids, forget it. Once they were old enough to talk I disliked them. They were simply a nuisance. Always staring at you. Soaking up all the attention. Asking you stupid questions.
Then somewhere in my mid twenties I started to soften towards them. I began to appreciate being around kids. I enjoyed playing with them and found them cute. That didn't mean I wanted to have one. I just like them. I still liked dogs better.
This past year it's become painfully clear that I might just be cut out for motherhood after all. I smile like a goof when I see a toddler and talk jibberish to infants, and I get this knot in my stomach whenever I see a child that appears unhappy. I've become one of the "Awwww!!!" people.
Most of all I feel this need to have a child, partly because I want a family of my own, and partly to pass on a part of myself to posterity I suppose. It's perhaps an instinct we all have deep inside, that just takes a while to emerge for some of us.
The question is, will I be a good enough mother. That's what I worry about.
Older kids, forget it. Once they were old enough to talk I disliked them. They were simply a nuisance. Always staring at you. Soaking up all the attention. Asking you stupid questions.
Then somewhere in my mid twenties I started to soften towards them. I began to appreciate being around kids. I enjoyed playing with them and found them cute. That didn't mean I wanted to have one. I just like them. I still liked dogs better.
This past year it's become painfully clear that I might just be cut out for motherhood after all. I smile like a goof when I see a toddler and talk jibberish to infants, and I get this knot in my stomach whenever I see a child that appears unhappy. I've become one of the "Awwww!!!" people.
Most of all I feel this need to have a child, partly because I want a family of my own, and partly to pass on a part of myself to posterity I suppose. It's perhaps an instinct we all have deep inside, that just takes a while to emerge for some of us.
The question is, will I be a good enough mother. That's what I worry about.
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
I have a secret power
I manage to piss people off even when I don't see them or speak to them in weeks and months. I always used to think that occasional distance and space is a good way of maintaining a friendship. Not so. Not always. It depends on the person I suppose, but I have experienced backstabbing and bad mouthing even when I haven't had anything to do with the person for months. Odd isn't it. I know I'm not the most likable person in the world, perhaps that's it. I rub people the wrong way. I'm aware of this. Not much I can do about that. Fortunately the people that I'm the closest to know me well enough to see through my weird sense of humour, they even appreciate it, and I feel comfortable enough with them to drop the armour.
It's hard for me to trust people. It feels as though you can't really trust anyone because you never know when they're going to turn on you. Perhaps this is my problem. I'm too uptight to relax and be myself around people. Outwardly I might appear relaxed but I'm always on guard. I don't even know how to get close to people. It's a miracle that it's happened at all.
So what I'm thinking is that my paranoia about people turns into a self-fulfilling prophecy. Perhaps because I expect people to turn cold on me, they do. I also think that my recent laid back attitude towards people pushes them away. I've become quite the recluse, who enjoy my solitude and peace and quiet. I'm not always the best at keeping in touch. In fact I stink at it. I know this is not good, but I've just become rather reticent lately, or perhaps the word is indifferent.
Or perhaps it's just my personality. Not much one can do about that. I'm just glad to have a few of people out there who get me.
It's hard for me to trust people. It feels as though you can't really trust anyone because you never know when they're going to turn on you. Perhaps this is my problem. I'm too uptight to relax and be myself around people. Outwardly I might appear relaxed but I'm always on guard. I don't even know how to get close to people. It's a miracle that it's happened at all.
So what I'm thinking is that my paranoia about people turns into a self-fulfilling prophecy. Perhaps because I expect people to turn cold on me, they do. I also think that my recent laid back attitude towards people pushes them away. I've become quite the recluse, who enjoy my solitude and peace and quiet. I'm not always the best at keeping in touch. In fact I stink at it. I know this is not good, but I've just become rather reticent lately, or perhaps the word is indifferent.
Or perhaps it's just my personality. Not much one can do about that. I'm just glad to have a few of people out there who get me.
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
I couldn't care less
I know I'm not the only one. I know there are others out there like me. There are others. I'm not a freak. I know there are others out there who couldn't give a flying fig about sports.
Yet for some inexplicable reason, sports seem to have some mysterious form of dominance in this world. I distinctly remember my elementary school years, and how I always felt like a lesser person because I wasn't taking any form of sport. I wasn't part of a club in my free time. I didn't feel passionate about any sport. I never got to pick teams in P.E class. I was one of the last to be picked for teams, except in softball, which I was good in but still didn't get picked among the first since I was after all a mere nerd.
I'm over it.
I will say this though, no kid of mine will ever feel pressured to take up a sport. Nor will I allow for them to be excluded in gym class simply because they're not a jock, or one of the popular kids. Physical education should never be dominated by popularity. P.E teachers shouldn't let the popular kids be the ones who always get to be team captains.
This is a separate issue, one that requires its own blog entry, and which no doubt would get rather heated, were I to lay into it.
No, my beef this time is with television and its everlasting preferential treatment of sporting events. Why is it that everything else seems to take a backseat to sports. Come on, it's sports! What is the overwhelming attraction? How can it be so important that T.V stations are willing to pre-empty any shows that coincide with a game? Will it change mankind in a profound way? Is it about someone who has invented something that will change the world for the better?
No, it's sports.
I get it though. Watching big athletes perform great feats touches people. I understand. I really do.
I get that it's a live game, and that a lot of people want to see it. I'm okay with that. I don't get the big deal about large men with sticks chasing after a puck and tackling each other, but okay, to each his own. I just wish there would be as much space for things other than sports.
Okay, now I'm realizing that this isn't really about T.V and its preferential treatment of sports, this is about deep rooted issues stemming back to my childhood. I am suddenly overcome with this memory of the class being split up into two groups, and there being two captains of the class who are choosing team members. It was always the same kids. Always two boys. Always two of the sporty kids, which is a dead giveaway that they were also two of the popular kids in the class. It's also somewhat alarming that they were always boys. However, that's a separate issue. The point is, sports have such a profound influence on our society, even to the point of how we value people. In school, kids that were good at sports had a higher social status, and isn't it it a fact that this is true for in society in general?
It's unfair to those that have other interests. I wish that culture could be deemed as valuable in mainstream society.
Yet for some inexplicable reason, sports seem to have some mysterious form of dominance in this world. I distinctly remember my elementary school years, and how I always felt like a lesser person because I wasn't taking any form of sport. I wasn't part of a club in my free time. I didn't feel passionate about any sport. I never got to pick teams in P.E class. I was one of the last to be picked for teams, except in softball, which I was good in but still didn't get picked among the first since I was after all a mere nerd.
I'm over it.
I will say this though, no kid of mine will ever feel pressured to take up a sport. Nor will I allow for them to be excluded in gym class simply because they're not a jock, or one of the popular kids. Physical education should never be dominated by popularity. P.E teachers shouldn't let the popular kids be the ones who always get to be team captains.
This is a separate issue, one that requires its own blog entry, and which no doubt would get rather heated, were I to lay into it.
No, my beef this time is with television and its everlasting preferential treatment of sporting events. Why is it that everything else seems to take a backseat to sports. Come on, it's sports! What is the overwhelming attraction? How can it be so important that T.V stations are willing to pre-empty any shows that coincide with a game? Will it change mankind in a profound way? Is it about someone who has invented something that will change the world for the better?
No, it's sports.
I get it though. Watching big athletes perform great feats touches people. I understand. I really do.
I get that it's a live game, and that a lot of people want to see it. I'm okay with that. I don't get the big deal about large men with sticks chasing after a puck and tackling each other, but okay, to each his own. I just wish there would be as much space for things other than sports.
Okay, now I'm realizing that this isn't really about T.V and its preferential treatment of sports, this is about deep rooted issues stemming back to my childhood. I am suddenly overcome with this memory of the class being split up into two groups, and there being two captains of the class who are choosing team members. It was always the same kids. Always two boys. Always two of the sporty kids, which is a dead giveaway that they were also two of the popular kids in the class. It's also somewhat alarming that they were always boys. However, that's a separate issue. The point is, sports have such a profound influence on our society, even to the point of how we value people. In school, kids that were good at sports had a higher social status, and isn't it it a fact that this is true for in society in general?
It's unfair to those that have other interests. I wish that culture could be deemed as valuable in mainstream society.
Friday, May 7, 2010
10 objects I would not want to be
As a result of my overactive imagination and my tendency to sympathize with inanimate objects, I sometimes find myself thinking what it would be like to be certain things. I can list the number of objects I would least like to be.
1. A toilet bowl in a public washroom
Imagine having people pull down their pants and place their bare bottoms on you and dump their urine or feces down your gullet. This is the life of a toilet bowl. Seeing fully exposed anuses from below would be bad enough, but having them drop their toxic missiles inside you day after day after day is even worse.
2. A toilet brush
Not only do you live permanently next to the toilet bowl, but you also have to make your living being shoved down cold, urine-infested toilet water and being rubbed hard against porcelain so that poo and other residue will stick to your bristles. Hardly desirable.
3. A tea bag
First someone pours scalding hot water on you, drown you in it, then pick you up and throw you in the garbage. The sad existence of a tea bag.
4. A vomit bag on an airplane loaded with drunks.
This one speaks for itself.
5. Tampons or sanitary pads.
This one too.
6. A suppository
Your sole function in life is to be shoved up an anus where you will soon dissolve. Sound nice?
7. A bowling shoe
Having various people invade you with their stinking feet all day is not exactly a dream existence.
8. A bus seat on a bus during afternoon rush hour
Being constantly sat on by warm bums ripe with the pungent sweat of a full day's work?
No thanks!
9. An orthodontic retainer
Being stuck inside a mouth all night, or even permanently for years? This is nothing for those of us that are slightly claustrophobic. Nor is it something for us that think that really bad morning breath is one of the most nauseating smells in the world.
10. A rug when it's being whipped clean
Some people are into S&M and like a good ass whooping. I'm not one of them. I've always thought it looks rather ominous and frightening when people whip their rugs like there's no tomorrow. They lay into them with such brute force and fury that one has to wonder who they're envisioning in the rug's place. And then, after the torture part is over, they carry their poor, traumatized victims back into the house and dump them on the floor, spread them out and start walking on them. Eerie!
1. A toilet bowl in a public washroom
Imagine having people pull down their pants and place their bare bottoms on you and dump their urine or feces down your gullet. This is the life of a toilet bowl. Seeing fully exposed anuses from below would be bad enough, but having them drop their toxic missiles inside you day after day after day is even worse.
2. A toilet brush
Not only do you live permanently next to the toilet bowl, but you also have to make your living being shoved down cold, urine-infested toilet water and being rubbed hard against porcelain so that poo and other residue will stick to your bristles. Hardly desirable.
3. A tea bag
First someone pours scalding hot water on you, drown you in it, then pick you up and throw you in the garbage. The sad existence of a tea bag.
4. A vomit bag on an airplane loaded with drunks.
This one speaks for itself.
5. Tampons or sanitary pads.
This one too.
6. A suppository
Your sole function in life is to be shoved up an anus where you will soon dissolve. Sound nice?
7. A bowling shoe
Having various people invade you with their stinking feet all day is not exactly a dream existence.
8. A bus seat on a bus during afternoon rush hour
Being constantly sat on by warm bums ripe with the pungent sweat of a full day's work?
No thanks!
9. An orthodontic retainer
Being stuck inside a mouth all night, or even permanently for years? This is nothing for those of us that are slightly claustrophobic. Nor is it something for us that think that really bad morning breath is one of the most nauseating smells in the world.
10. A rug when it's being whipped clean
Some people are into S&M and like a good ass whooping. I'm not one of them. I've always thought it looks rather ominous and frightening when people whip their rugs like there's no tomorrow. They lay into them with such brute force and fury that one has to wonder who they're envisioning in the rug's place. And then, after the torture part is over, they carry their poor, traumatized victims back into the house and dump them on the floor, spread them out and start walking on them. Eerie!
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
Thick as thieves in singledom
Is it natural for people to drop their friends as soon as they meet somebody and enter a committed relationship? I know it's natural for things to change somewhat you when meet someone. One can't expect things to stay completely the same. A new significant other takes up a lot of time. One must expect to see a little bit less of that person. That's acceptable.
Then there are those friends who disappear completely when they meet somebody. They're a variation of fair-weather friends. They will only come to you when they're single, lonely or bored, when they need you. They want to be friends, thick as thieves, when they have nothing else going on in their lives. When they meet someone they have no use for you. That's not to say they don't have use for other, new friendships, friendships that fit well in with the new relationship. Sometimes a particular friendship is formed out of a temporary need, and once that need is no longer there then the friendship is history too. Some people only turn to you in desperate or confused times, and when their lives are going well again they leave you behind.
In a way, this sucks, but in a way I can sort of understand. People can become reminders of a time in your life that you'd rather forget. I know, I've been there. Sometimes you look back at a particularly ugly chapter of your life and you just want to forget everything and everyone associated with it. The people who you once befriended knew a desperate, clingy, lost individual who is now a source of shame for you. Is there a fear that this person will re-emerge if those old friendships are rekindled? No, I think we just want to move on with our lives and leave all that old business in the past.
The thing is, people aren't business. We shouldn't discard friendships the way you discard old clothes or old boyfriends or girlfriends.
If we do that, we shouldn't expect the friends whose phone numbers we suddenly forgot when we met someone to still be there waiting once we're single again. You can't treat people like that. People aren't static. Their lives don't suddenly stop once you leave the scene. They won't be there in the same place that you left them, ready to be your friend again.
It used to bother me when friends did what I've just described above. These days I've become fairly laid-back about it. The way I see it, people come and go. Some remain, some don't. Such is life. C'est la vie.
Then there are those friends who disappear completely when they meet somebody. They're a variation of fair-weather friends. They will only come to you when they're single, lonely or bored, when they need you. They want to be friends, thick as thieves, when they have nothing else going on in their lives. When they meet someone they have no use for you. That's not to say they don't have use for other, new friendships, friendships that fit well in with the new relationship. Sometimes a particular friendship is formed out of a temporary need, and once that need is no longer there then the friendship is history too. Some people only turn to you in desperate or confused times, and when their lives are going well again they leave you behind.
In a way, this sucks, but in a way I can sort of understand. People can become reminders of a time in your life that you'd rather forget. I know, I've been there. Sometimes you look back at a particularly ugly chapter of your life and you just want to forget everything and everyone associated with it. The people who you once befriended knew a desperate, clingy, lost individual who is now a source of shame for you. Is there a fear that this person will re-emerge if those old friendships are rekindled? No, I think we just want to move on with our lives and leave all that old business in the past.
The thing is, people aren't business. We shouldn't discard friendships the way you discard old clothes or old boyfriends or girlfriends.
If we do that, we shouldn't expect the friends whose phone numbers we suddenly forgot when we met someone to still be there waiting once we're single again. You can't treat people like that. People aren't static. Their lives don't suddenly stop once you leave the scene. They won't be there in the same place that you left them, ready to be your friend again.
It used to bother me when friends did what I've just described above. These days I've become fairly laid-back about it. The way I see it, people come and go. Some remain, some don't. Such is life. C'est la vie.
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
I'm being stalked!
By fat cells. They lie in wait, ready to pounce the minute I eat something rich in carbs or fat, and distribute themselves evenly on my sides. There they hang out and gloat victoriously until I make an honest effort to escape them. This requires some heavy duty cardio workouts and a real decrease in calories. This means not eating potato chips, no chocolate and less bread, or bravely forcing down bread that resembles cardboard and that takes so long to eat that I get sick of chewing.
I can work out regularly and eat semi-healthy food, and not lose weight, but the minute I treat myself to something there they are, those pesky fat cells, attacking mercilessly. Sometimes I think they mock me. "HA! Yeah you can keep on working out and eating healthy but the moment you let something greasy touch your lips you can bet your ass we'll be right here waiting!" We have a song, my fat cells and I, and it's that Richard Marx song. "Wherever you are, whatever you do, I will be right here waiting for you". Change the "I" to "we" and you got it. That's our special song.
You can't escape genetics and previous diet. I have the same body as my mother and both my grandmothers. Rather slim legs, thin ankles and a small frame but the tendency to be pudgy around the stomach. Like middle aged truck drivers who spend their lives behind the steering wheel and live on hamburgers and fries from greasy diners and never exercise. I exercise and try to take care of myself but I know that I will never ever be able to really fight genetics, nor the million fat cells that I probably acquired during my younger days when I couldn't care less about counting calories and thought exercise was for jocks. The only exercise I got was walking to the gas station to buy candy, and even then it was at a leisurely pace. I could easily scarf down a pizza with extra cheese and top it off with a big chocolate bar. No problem. Now that metabolism is catching up to me, I'm paying the price.
Well I will never let them win! Never! I will fight them if it's the last thing I do!
I can work out regularly and eat semi-healthy food, and not lose weight, but the minute I treat myself to something there they are, those pesky fat cells, attacking mercilessly. Sometimes I think they mock me. "HA! Yeah you can keep on working out and eating healthy but the moment you let something greasy touch your lips you can bet your ass we'll be right here waiting!" We have a song, my fat cells and I, and it's that Richard Marx song. "Wherever you are, whatever you do, I will be right here waiting for you". Change the "I" to "we" and you got it. That's our special song.
You can't escape genetics and previous diet. I have the same body as my mother and both my grandmothers. Rather slim legs, thin ankles and a small frame but the tendency to be pudgy around the stomach. Like middle aged truck drivers who spend their lives behind the steering wheel and live on hamburgers and fries from greasy diners and never exercise. I exercise and try to take care of myself but I know that I will never ever be able to really fight genetics, nor the million fat cells that I probably acquired during my younger days when I couldn't care less about counting calories and thought exercise was for jocks. The only exercise I got was walking to the gas station to buy candy, and even then it was at a leisurely pace. I could easily scarf down a pizza with extra cheese and top it off with a big chocolate bar. No problem. Now that metabolism is catching up to me, I'm paying the price.
Well I will never let them win! Never! I will fight them if it's the last thing I do!
Sunday, May 2, 2010
Ah...there she is!
I realized something just now, I lose myself when I'm around other people too much. Finally now that I'm getting some time to myself to think I'm finding myself again. Welcome back me! Neurotic, weird and pissy...here she is! If people don't like it, tough. I'm tired of feeling like I'm walking around on eggshells. Never EVER become too socialized!
Spring disorientation
I haven't been keeping up with my blogging, nor writing my book, due to being busy, but also because I always get quite confused and disoriented this time of year. It's as if my mind is in need of a good spring cleaning to shake the cobwebs out. This happens every year. I'm all over the place, literally and mentally. I like being busy, but as always when I am forced to be social beyond what's normal for me, I start to get scattered. I have problems focusing and I get edgy. I simply need time by myself to function semi-normally. Once a lone wolf, always a lone wolf.
Last night was the evening of my junior high school reunion. I went with no expectations whatsoever, and was neither disappointed nor pleasantly surprised. As expected, the old cliques immediately formed, after the initial obligatory 'Hi, so good to see you!' and hugs were over with. It's odd, I never hugged any of my classmates when we were in school together, but now everybody hugged. Now we're adults, and adults do the mature thing, the perfunctory thing.
It's natural that we should gather in the same cliques as back then. Because if you have a history with someone, it's natural that you would gravitate towards them, rather than the people that you barely knew. Although in a way, we all have a history together don't we. We saw each other 5 days a week for 9 years. We probably influenced each other a lot more than we realize. Even if we weren't all friends, we were undeniably a part of each others childhood, since we were all thrust together in the same classroom and forced to grow up side by side.
In a way, most of what goes on in reunions is a little bit fake. Come on, you can't be happy to see everybody. There must be some people that you haven't given a second thought during the past 20 years since graduation. The only real difference between the past us and the present us is that we've become civilized and we know that we have to perform certain social customs. When we were kids we still hadn't succumbed to the pressures of social etiquette. We weren't expected to be nice to people we didn't like. If someone was a geek it was alright to ignore that person. As adults you have to be be nice to the geeks too. It's expected of you.
The lines between jocks and geeks become blurred as we mature into adults, however I don't think they are ever completely erased when everyone gets together for reunions. I think everyone, to some extent, fall into their roles, their old groups. This is quite natural. I would rather talk to the people I was friends with, since it's with them that I share memories of past events.
Last night was the evening of my junior high school reunion. I went with no expectations whatsoever, and was neither disappointed nor pleasantly surprised. As expected, the old cliques immediately formed, after the initial obligatory 'Hi, so good to see you!' and hugs were over with. It's odd, I never hugged any of my classmates when we were in school together, but now everybody hugged. Now we're adults, and adults do the mature thing, the perfunctory thing.
It's natural that we should gather in the same cliques as back then. Because if you have a history with someone, it's natural that you would gravitate towards them, rather than the people that you barely knew. Although in a way, we all have a history together don't we. We saw each other 5 days a week for 9 years. We probably influenced each other a lot more than we realize. Even if we weren't all friends, we were undeniably a part of each others childhood, since we were all thrust together in the same classroom and forced to grow up side by side.
In a way, most of what goes on in reunions is a little bit fake. Come on, you can't be happy to see everybody. There must be some people that you haven't given a second thought during the past 20 years since graduation. The only real difference between the past us and the present us is that we've become civilized and we know that we have to perform certain social customs. When we were kids we still hadn't succumbed to the pressures of social etiquette. We weren't expected to be nice to people we didn't like. If someone was a geek it was alright to ignore that person. As adults you have to be be nice to the geeks too. It's expected of you.
The lines between jocks and geeks become blurred as we mature into adults, however I don't think they are ever completely erased when everyone gets together for reunions. I think everyone, to some extent, fall into their roles, their old groups. This is quite natural. I would rather talk to the people I was friends with, since it's with them that I share memories of past events.
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