Another Facebook thought

I know I may be sounding like a broken record, but it's actually thought provoking, how it seems to have such an impact on our lives. It's become such a way of life that one has to reflect on it.
A lot of people seem to base their lives around it. And quite often, it appears to be all about making everything seem rosy and hunky-dory. Posting party pictures so that everyone can see how popular you are. Having a really rosy, upbeat status with lots of smileys and exclamation marks.

I went to a pizza restaurant for dinner today and while we were eating, this obviously separated, single dad came in with his young son to have dinner. They sat a few tables away from us and the entire time the dad had a headset on. It looked like he had a large bug growing out of his ear. His son couldn't have been more than 5 or 6 and he was chattering on the entire time, while the dad muttered out incoherent answers and seemed like he wasn't really there. It was probably his day with his son.
I bet tonight, his Facebook status will say something like "Quality time and pizza with my beloved son". Making it sound so perfect.

We're all guilty of that I bet. Few people will tell the truth, since the truth is often too imperfect and bland to suffice. Maybe sometimes it actually is perfect, but there's no way it can be all the time. If I were to judge solely from my Facebook friends' status', I'd have to say that they are all the happiest, most well adjusted people in the whole world, especially the Swedes. Well, there are those few screwed up cases that do the opposite and spill their most intimate thoughts and problems in their status for everyone to see, but that's rare and it tends to be very confused and emotionally needy people who do that.
Apart from that, most people seem to have great lives, if I were to believe their status. I almost feel inadequate in comparison. And here I thought other people had neurotic moments too. Or perhaps they do but they just don't share it.
I don't meet most people on my FB, but when I actually do I'm always a bit surprised because the only news of them I have had has been on Facebook and judging from that they seem utterly on top of the world. Then when I actually meet them in the flesh I'm always surprised to see that their life isn't as picture perfect as it seems on FB.

In a way, it's kind of neat to read some of these upbeat status'. I like the ones that are about kids, since I like children. In a way, hunky-dorey status' can also get a little bit too much, especially if they're repetitive, which they so often are. Sometimes, when I'm in a particularly crappy mood, I feel like reaching out and smacking someone. I'm one of those awful people who actually enjoys the gloomy stuff. Not because I gloat at other people's unfortune, well maybe sometimes I do if it's someone who deserves it, I'm not perfect, but because life isn't perfect. Of course we should try to be positive and well adjusted and do the best we can to be successful and healthy and all that, but unfortunately life isn't free of shitty moments. I find the shitty moments just as interesting, if not more, as the good ones. Life is not so one-dimensional as that. It can't all be good. It'd be boring if it was wouldn't it. Then again, the answer may be that these people do have shitty times, they just don't share them in their status. Like it or not, we all have a dark side. The bad stuff is a part of life, and I think it's interesting to explore it.

I'm maladjusted

A friend said that I seem adjusted here in Sweden and that I will probably stay here for quite a while.
That scared the hell out of me. The observation of me being adjusted to life here is not true. It never has been. If had been I wouldn't have left.
Family loyalty brought me back, and fear and family loyalty are keeping me here.
Fear of moving and maybe having to start over from scratch. Fear of ending up living in some humid, horrible basement suite. Fear of ending up doing ESL tutoring again.
I feel too old for starting from scratch again. I'm at that age now where it's seriously time to start settling down. If I was 10 years younger it'd be entirely different but I'm not.
I'm also not willing to leave my parents behind again. This is the lesser problem however since they are now retired and would be able, if they were willing, to come and live in Vancouver for parts of the year.

I know I'm maladjusted to life here because I feel myself sinking deeper and deeper into lethargy. I'm too paralyzed to muster up the courage to make that much needed change.

I know I'm not adjusted to life here, because

I get angry and irritated about the most ridiculous things, such as certain T.V commercials.

I loath trendy expression that everyone use, such as "Fredagsmys". People here even talk exactly alike.

I find myself comparing aspects here to life in Canada, such as service level, and wonder what a Canadian would do when they receive bad service in a restaurant.

And then, quite simply, I was a better person when I lived in Canada. Here I've turned into someone I don't really like.

Life wasn't perfect in Canada either but the fundamental difference was the kind of person I was. Here I'm an insecure, whiny misfit.

I'm really great at keeping up appearances though.

You can tell it's Monday

Got up to find that the temperature has risen to +2, and consequently the entire town looks like an ice rink, and a very windy one at that.
All the snow that had fallen on the trees, making it look peaceful and wintery, has either fallen off or melted. What we're left with is greyish, compact glob that covers the ground. The snow, that was so fluffy when it felt, looks like it has been pissed on.
The previously peaceful shades of blue and white that was the sky before has now turned into this yellowish, depressing hue. This is why I hate March and April. I hate this middle stage between winter and spring. It was nice when it was really cold. Now that it's warm it suddenly gets really depressing, even confusing.
To top it off it's Monday. I hate Monday mornings and I know I'm not alone there. As soon as we reach Monday evening, or even the afternoon, it starts to feel a bit better.
Everything looks different on a Monday morning. The apartment looks homey and neat on Sunday evening but when you get up on Monday morning it has suddenly taken on a completely different appearance. Suddenly it's messy and dreary, and that is especially true on a gloomy day like this one.
Even Nick is affected by the fact that it's Monday morning. At least I think so. He's always like this. He was printing an address on to an envelope and I asked him what he was mailing. The answer I got was:
"Pictures of my ass!"
Now normally that would probably sound like a rude, angry answer, but not the way he says it. He says it in this sassy, sly, matter-of-fact tone that I can't help but laugh at. Sure, what he said was rude, but it was just weird enough for someone like me to start laughing at.
My sense of humour becomes wharped on days like these. On Monday mornings in February, March and April I can become hysterical out of sheer desperation.

Weekend of beer

I have far too much beer this weekend. I blame Norm Peterson for that. I've been watching Cheers episodes before I go to sleep at night. I have my beloved box sets, season 1-5. Didn't care for it as much after Dianne left.
Anyway, for a person who loves cold beer it gets a little much to watch Norm down beer after beer every evening. So when we went to a work function on Friday where they served beer and I went nuts. Not so nuts that I threw up and staggered around, but enough to pass that line of when you're no longer just comfortably buzzed. I suppose it didn't help that I had a glass of red wine too. There is something dangerous about free alcohol. One becomes almost desperate in one's attempts to drink as much free alcohol as possible since this kind of opportunity doesn't come along every day. Or, it's free, I better take advantage of it. I suppose some of us are like that in various situations. I've heard of Chinese people who got bumped to first class on an airplane and spent the flight putting assorted chocolates in napkins and shoving it into their pockets. We all do those things I suppose. If a person in my family is going somewhere where they will be serving sandwich cake, I ask them to bring some home for me. I don't joke when I say that. Of course, they never do bring some home for me, since it just doesn't look right to ask the host/hostess for a tupperware container so you can take some leftovers home. Even worse, bringing your own tupperware container, so that it's clear to everyone that you arrived prepared and with a plan to mooch some sandwich cake to take home.
In my case with the sandwich cake it's not about the fact that it's free and I should take advantage of it, it's about my obsession with sandwich cake. When it comes to sandwich cake, I'm a slave to my tastebuds and my stomach.
So Friday contained too much beer for my liking. The next day the plan was to just stay home that evening and not drink a single drop. Then a friend calls and wants to go out and grab a bite, so I suggest a regular pizza place. What do you know, she wants beer! Which means a regular pizza joint is out. Instead we end up going to a rather over-prized pub, where they not only didn't have any pizza but that specializes in having as many beer brands as possible. I end up having two bottles of Stella. They somehow just snuck themselves down my gullet.
Now I can safely say that my beer craving of late has been satisfied. I watched Cheers yesterday and when Norm had his beer I didn't feel thirsty.
I'd say that's a good sign. How long it'll last is a different matter entirely.

A day in the life of me

I'm going to do something very boring but that some people seem to do like to do on in their status on Facebook, that is share my mundane, everyday life in diary form. Only I'm going to be more specific.

7:55am - I'm in the middle of a dream where somebody is knocking. I slowly begin to drift into consciousness and I realize that the knocking is not in the dream, it's coming from somewhere in the building. KA KA KA KA!!! At first I think it's the surly looking lady upstairs who is nailing up pictures at this ungodly hour, but as the sound keeps moving around, Nick, who has began stirring as well, mutters that he thinks they're knocking the snow off the roof. He quickly goes back to sleep and begins to snore lightly. It doesn't take long for him to go back to sleep.
I lay there and know that I should get up and start my day by taking Kelly out for a walk and then maybe hitting the gym and then doing some translation work, as it's waiting for me, but I don't. I linger in between dazed consciousness and sleep, and finally go back to sleep.

9:45am - I wake up again and open my eyes. Judging from the light in the room I can tell it's quite late. I look at my alarm clock and know that it's time to force myself to get up. Kelly is awake but looks groggy and she turns around from her spot at the foot of the bed and looks at me with that stern face.

9:52am - I'm up, and make my way to the kettle to boil water for tea. I take one of my large tea cups and put a tea bag in it. Forest Fruit flavour today.
I then go into the living room and turn on the T.V. Falcon Crest is on, and I know this because it's on every morning. I lay down on the couch while I wait for the water to boil. I fight to wake up. I'm as dazed and groggy as I am every morning these days. Must be the lack of light.

9:55am - I pour the water into the tea cup and go over to the computer to check my Gmail, Facebook, hotmail, local newspaper and my blog. In that order. Some bullshit email from Ebay on Gmail. Nothing new on Facebook. Same old crap. A link to an ad for Huskey puppies from Nick on hotmail. Relieved to learn that nothing tragic has happened in the world as I read the local news. Saddened to learn that the only news that the local paper has to write about are which names are the most popular in Sweden at the moment and yet another drunken argument in a restaurant. Well in a way it's quite comforting isn't it since if this is all they have to print, we know nothing majorly tragic has happened. Nothing new on Blogger either. The waves of excitement are running high as always.

10:09am - I take Kelly out to do her business. I waddle my way down to the little strip of forest beyond the parking lot, in my large, black winter boots. Kelly sniffs at every yellow spot in the snow and crouches down to pee on one of them, just to mark her turf.

10:20am - I make myself a berry smoothie. Raspberry and mango today. I park myself in front of the T.V with my smoothie to watch Days of Our Lives while I drink my breakfast. It's not all that interesting but it sucks to eat alone.

10:52am - I sacrifice watching the rest of Days of Our Lives in favour of continuing my work on this translation. I just received a brief email from the client asking me to send him the completed translation as soon as possible. I get to work.

11:42am - I am finished with the translation and send it off with that same feeling of satisfaction of having completed a translation, and an utterly boring one at that. Bank business.

11:56am - I sit down with a pita stuffed with two fish sticks, lettuce, tomato, red onion, feta and tzatziki sauce. It's delicious but messy and I end up spilling tzatziki sauce on my sweater. So what's new. While I eat I watch Emmerdale to see what the freaks on this soap are up to today.

12:12pm - I have finished my lunch and get dressed to go to my 1:00pm interpretation. Today I choose to wear black tights, a beige/brown V- neck long top with a white cardigan. I wear a necklace as well, in an attempt to sharpen it up a bit. I put my contacts in and some war paint on my face. I admit defeat in my constant battle with my unruly hair, and gather my brown hair together in a pony tail that hangs straight down my neck and back.

12:21pm - It is time to get Nick up, because I need him to give me a ride. He doesn't work until 5pm, and as usual he's in no hurry to get up. I call out his name in a calm voice with a hint of gentleness. If I'm abbrasive with him he'll grumble and might take his time getting up, which will stress me out as I'll worry about being late. He's rather grumpy anyway, since he's not a morning person, or even an afternoon person. He's more of a 2:00am kind of person.

12:45pm - I have my black coat, black boots, white toque, red gloves and purple scarf on. It's time to leave. I'm waiting by the door as Nick scurries around the apartment trying to find his chewing gum. He's like a woman. He has certain rituals before he leaves the house and he can't leave the apartment without them. Meanwhile I'm like a man standing by the front door with my outer clothes on urging him to hurry up.

12:49pm - We finally pull out of the garage.

12:58pm - I arrive at my interpretation. The client is already there. For the next hour and a half I interpret everything that is said in the room and try to maintain a professional tone. I am actually booked until 3:00pm but we finish early. I still get paid until 3:00pm so I'm still on the clock as I waddle my way over the the library.

2:46pm - I sit down at a table in the library and take my Mac laptop out of my bag and switch it on. I somehow sense that this writing session is going to be somewhat scattered since there are two teenaged girls yammering on downstairs. It's a small library so sound carries. Several times I poke my stern, irritated face over the edge and peer down at them where they are having their gossip session.
Then some woman asks the librarian for help to find a nice novel to read. She's after a psychological thriller, as the whole library can probably hear, since she makes no effort to speak in hushed tones. Oddly enough, the librarian makes no effort to keep it down either. It's more of a local meeting spot than a library.

4:10pm - I catch a ride home with my dad, who is on his way to pick up my mom from work.

5:10pm - I come home. We eat dinner. Thai food, bought from the Thai wagon down the street by Nick. The quality of the chicken is so-so but I'm in a bit of rush since I have to teach a class at 6:00pm.

5:42pm - Nick drives me down to my class. I bring my workout bag with me. I arrive outside the dark building and can barely find the keyhole to unlock the door to the ground floor classroom that we use for this English class.
The students begin to arrive, all 5 of them, and we have our class.

7:35pm - I purposefully walk the up the street to the gym. It's about a five minute walk. Once there, my gym key is giving me trouble. There is something wrong with the machine so when I enter my code, one button presses twice and enters one digit too much. I struggle for a good minute before I'm able to get in.

7:54pm - I climb up on the tredmill and begin my 30 min jog, with the goal of trying to run 5 km. I increase the speed more than I usually do so that I can meet my goal. Nick is picking me up at 8:45pm and I don't have an unlimited amount of time here.
I end up jogging around 4.7 km. It'll have to do. After this I do some strength exercises on the machines.

8:45pm - I am waiting for Nick to pick me up. I am sitting next to the window, peering out hoping to see our familiar Passat come driving up to the gym. No luck.

8:50pm - Nick is still not here and a terrible suspicion hits me, what if he has fallen asleep, which he invariably does in the early evening. I told you he is a 2:00am person. I call his cell phone. He answers in a sleepy voice. Sure enough, he had fallen asleep and had I not woken up him now he could have gone on sleeping for hours and I could have been sitting there all sweaty and annoyed all evening. He says he's leaving to come get me right now. I wander over to the fridge where they have protein shakes for sale, just to have something to do I stare at them for a few minutes. Then I decide to work out just a few more minutes, so even though I'm my regular clothes I go into the gym and do some chest presses.

9:03pm - Nick arrives and I go outside and jump into the car.

9:10pm - I have a hot shower.

9:25pm - I am in my pajamas on the sofa, eating chips.

11:17pm - I get into bed and watch an episode of Cheers, season 2, before I fall asleep.

How fun was that!

My dog thinks she's pregnant - I hope

My beloved dog is going through a stage of lethargy and moodiness. Since she is turning 10 soon, I sure hope it's nothing more than the after-stage of being in heat. Female dogs can think they're pregnant after they've been in heat, because their bodies have gone through their mating period during which they would have been "knocked up", so to speak, if one had wanted to breed them. Well even dogs who aren't bred and get pregnant can go through a stage when their bodies believe they are pregnant and they start to act accordingly. Kelly has gone through this before. The first time we were really worried because she gets very lethargic and her breathing seems laboured and she doesn't want to eat or even go for walks. We had all kinds of tests done on her but the vet couldn't find anything wrong and explained the process of fake pregnancy in female dogs to us.
What worries me is the usual thing that still bothers me even though we've gone through this numerous times. What if isn't fake pregnancy? What if she's sick? What if she's dying? She is getting up their in age.
I hate this so much. This is definitely the one huge draw back about having pets. They will get sick and when they are you feel so powerless, and eventually they will die on you. I've had birds die on me and that was terrible, I'll never forget it. It will be infinitely more difficult losing Kelly. I think I'll want to die as well.
I don't just love dogs, I fall in love with them. I love them with an intense passion that I often don't feel for people. There's nothing better in this world than animals, dogs especially. I act like a lunatic when I meet dogs in the street. I stare and turn around and keep gawking, so that the owners must think I'm crazy. Sometimes I laugh out loud and talk to myself. I talk babytalk to pictures of dogs and cats, as though the animals were right there in front of me, in the flesh.
Everything just seems so much better if there's a dog present. I can endure a lot more if there's a dog around. I can even tolerate people I would normally not care to be around if they have a dog that I particularly love. All I need is the presence of a dog and I feel happier and more peaceful. Once they are around me, I can't leave them alone. I'll ignore the owner and devote almost all my attention to their dog. I can be quite rude.
Having a dog is great, but is it worth the pain of them dying?

Urban Legend revisited

In the spring of 1999 I was on the verge of a relationship ending. As if this wasn't enough, we were living together and since he owned the place I would need to be the one to move out. Even worse than this though was that practically half his family was staying with us. His parents, his sister, his brother-in-law and his brother. His mother hated me, and it wasn't long before the sister and the brother-in-law did too, since the mother continually bad-mouthed me to them. I suppose I didn't help by closing off and retreating into myself.
It felt like my world was crumbling. I was very young and living in a country where I had no family, and I was a student and not very financially well off. I had basically no friends, apart from one guy friend with whom I had a rather strange, oddly comforting and sometimes screwed up friendship. These were there not ideal circumstances to be in. Living in a house with a boyfriend who had fallen out of love with me, and with his family who intensely disliked me and had stopped talking to me. Ever since I moved to Canada, my boyfriend had been my family, and now all of that had changed.
I had begun to comfort drink. A visiting friend had left a bottle of Gordon's gin in the refrigerator and I tried some, and had found that the first effects of the alcohol had a calming, sooting effect on my weary, stressed mind. It didn't take much to affect me since I was pretty much a novice when it came to drinking. Not the best solution to problems but at least it had a temporary effect.
The movie Urban Legend, which had come out in theatres the previous year, was constantly playing on Pay Per View, and I begun watching it over and over again. It became my escape, well that and Gordon's gin.
While the family was out, I was able to use the living room, and I watched Urban Legend.
Now, I'm watching it again, and it brings back so many memories. Fortunately, 99 was a long time ago and wounds have pretty much healed. There will always be a scar, an unpleasant memory, but I can finally look back at those past events and not feel rage.
That movie reminds me of college. I was a college student. My campus was nothing like the university featured in the movie, but still, I could relate. Seeing that movie again, the dress styles of that period, it just brings back so many memories of my college days. It was a rather horrible time for me, that first year of college, but still, in retrospect I can sort of appreciate certain things about it.
Urban Legend is just another slasher. It's not really original, by any means, but for some reason it still captivates me. When I watch it, I picture that couch in that living room of the townhouse I lived in for a year. When I hear that theme song, that sort of ethereal, mysterious melody that plays when the title comes on, I am transported back to the past.
It's driving Nick crazy, the fact that I have watched Urban Legend twice this week, and I haven't told him yet but I also watched it today while he was at work.
My fascination is in part due to my interest in urban legends.
It's typical of me to watch something over and over again when I like something. It's not enough just to see it once. I have to over-do it. Go to extremes. Do it again and again. I'm a serial watcher.
Whatever works. The way I see it, if something interests you, you should do it.

Did someone hit me over the head?

Without my knowledge, did someone hit me over the head in the past week? Perhaps in my sleep? That would explain the zombie-like feeling that's come over me lately. I mostly feel like the walking dead. I can usually shake that feeling and even though I've been trying to the feeling still remains. It's both physical and psychological.
I'm exhausted if I wake up before 9:00am in the morning, which is ridiculous. I seem to require at least 9 hours of sleep all of a sudden. I've always needed a lot of sleep but these days I need more than ever. Whenever I wake up it's with a dazed, exhausted feeling, as though I have only slept 3 hours.
If I get less than 8 hours I get depressed and lethargic. Today is one of those days. Fortunately I did data entry today, which requires nothing but a zombie, so it actually fit.
I'm hoping that this feeling of utter hopelessness will pass soon. It's probably just the season. Hopefully it'll improve as soon as I'm over the post-Christmas blues. I know I'm not the only one who suffers from them. Not feeling sorry for myself here, this time it just seems to be out of my control. I know it's not. It's I that has to make a major change or things will never improve.
With Easter so far away this year and no holiday or any event at all in between, it makes every day life seem pretty dull and grey.
I think I must be in some sort of life crisis right now, because it feels like my life is over. It feels like the best years are behind me and there are no more chances left. I know this is irrational thinking, and this must be what a mid-life crisis feel like, although I'm not middle aged. Maybe it's just a good old-fashioned existential crisis. Doubting why I'm here. What I'm supposed to do. What I'm good at. If I'm good at anything at all. Should I bring a child into this miserable world. All that fun stuff. All those warm, fuzzy, cheerful, life affirming thoughts that they challenge in Rational emotive behaviour therapy. Albert Ellis would tell me to stop whining.
Pretty hard to make that major change when you have no clue where to start.

In the mood for romance

I just saw the movie "Made of Honor". It wasn't an original storyline but it was a feel-good movie. It ended the way I wanted it to, not like the ending in "My Best Friend's Wedding" where I was left disappointed. If she had married that Scot I'm not sure if I would have liked the movie. However as it was I was left with a romantic feeling when it ended. Perfect! Just the kind of relationship and marriage that's perfect in my book. You start out as friends and are friends for years and then realize you're in love with each other. Then you marry on a rooftop in Manhattan and live in New York. Very nice. It doesn't have to be New York specifically, it could be Vancouver. One thing I do know and that's that I would not want to live in some dreary, old castle in the middle of nowhere in Scotland with a pale husband who shoots every animal in sight and wouldn't let me take a bite out of his piece of chocolate cake. And I'm sorry, but there's something really unappealing about a man in a skirt, even if it is a kilt.
And they kiss properly in this movie. Not those friendly, brief kisses where they don't even open their mouths but just press lips against lips for a few seconds, but those long, passionate, almost frantic kisses. Make-out kisses.
I think the kind of relationship where you start out as friends is much better, and much more romantic in my opinion. That way you get to know each other properly at first and don't try to impress each other and put on a show in order to look like a catch in the dating stage. When you start out as friends there's not so much pressure and you can get to know each other's bad sides as well as the good ones and if you do fall in love it's despite of the negative parts.
For me, there's nothing more romantic than two old friends who suddenly get together and stay together. However if they don't stay together it's more sad than anything since then they'll have not only lost a relationship but also a friendship.
I just thought I'd jot down a few lines on the subject while I'm feeling all romantic from seeing that movie.
It also makes me a little bit sad though since real life just doesn't measure up to the movies. That's how it is for me with romantic movies. If they're truly grand and romantic in true Hollywood fashion, soft lighting, lots of colour, powerful music and grand expressions of emotions, then they make me feel good but after the movie is over I feel a bit down because I realize that this would never happen in real life and even if did it would never happen to me. It's like you're freezing and need to pee really badly at the same time so just to relieve yourself and keep warm at the same time you pee in your pants. While it's happening it feels great because you get to go and it makes you feel warm after having been cold for so long. But then after a while the pee gets cold and you end up feeling more cold than you did before because now not only are you still freezing but you're also soaking wet.
However, if the movie is more realistic and not as vivid and colourful but instead greyer and more subdued and perhaps not with the storybook ending I'm after, but meant to be thought-provoking and reflect real life, I'd be annoyed at that too because when I watch movies I want colour and vividness and unrealistic romance because that's what romance movies are for, to act as an escape from reality. At least for me it is. I did like "My Best Friend's Wedding" even though it didn't end the way I would have preferred. It all depends on how the movie is made. Its mood, the colours, how it makes you feel.
I'm like Annie in "Sleepless in Seattle", I don't want to be in love in real life, I want to be in love in a movie. Another great romance story by the way.
By the way, Patrick Dempsey is very attractive. He wasn't nearly as attractive in "Can't Buy Me Love", although that is a classic for me. He's one of those men who grows more attractive with age. It has to do with the eyes I think. A few lines around the eyes adds something, a soulfulness perhaps? Or maybe that's just how it appears. I don't know.

The cold world of cyberspace

I've said it before, and after reading a sad story in the newspaper today I feel like reiterating it: Facebook is a rather sad place.
This girl had over a 1000 friends on her Facebook. She was feeling depressed over a failed relationship and announced on Christmas Day in her status that she had taken pills and was about to die.
Several of the friends on her list lived within walking distance of her apartment, yet no one did anything. Instead they ridiculed her by replying to her status with mocking statements.
The next day this girl was found dead in her apartment.
Sad isn't it. Over 1000 friends on Facebook and she dies alone without anyone even calling her to find out if her statement was true or not.
For the most part it's all a sham, and I think we all know that. Only a handful, if that, of the people on my list are truly friends. However I don't dwell in some kind of illusion as to what the others are. I'm not on there in the attempt of establishing great connections and make long-lasting friendships. It started out as a fun thing and has turned into a bit of a nuisance that I don't quite seem able to leave. It does provide a useful tool in keeping in touch with certain long-distance friends.
Other than that it's nonsense. I don't really need it. It's too easy to press the "like" button and type "Happy Birthday! Have a great day!", "Awww...feel better"!, and such. I think a lot of the time we do it without any real thought behind it, almost automatically, like wiping ourselves after we go to the washroom or turning off the light when we leave a room.
I know, it's just meant to be a fun thing. Why take it so seriously.
Well sometimes I feel like stopping to think about why I do the things I do and what the purpose behind it is. I suppose the answer is that it's just lighthearted enjoyment. Just a way to pass the time. Modern society's version of socializing.
Whatever happened to letter writing letters, or phoning, or even emailing? People rarely even do that anymore. Although I shouldn't complain about not receiving any emails since I fared much better in the creative writing department before the internet came along.

Odd thoughts

I get uncomfortable when I go to church. I dislike sitting so close to people. It always feel like the peeople in the pew behind me are watching the back of my skull and judging me, deeming me an unfit church-goer because I so often fidget, change positions and scratch my head. I know this is nonsense and that their attention is most likely on the priest or whoever is speaking or singing, but I can't help feeling stressed in the church pew. People are so close behind you that you can smell what they last ate, and right in front of you is some person's greasy head. Alright, so they're not always greasy heads, but it's still too close for comfort. They knock your program down from the ledge when they lean back. And they're always so serious. Everyone in church is always so stern looking. That's what makes me uncomfortable. Even though it's supposed to be a place of freedom and acceptance, I always feel like I'm being scrutinized, like I should behave in a certain way. As though I should be all serious and ceremonious. And is it just me or do people stare more in church than anywhere else. People always stare in this town, but in church it seems to be even worse. They almost twists their necks off trying to get a look at you as you walk in. That's why I always try to get a seat way off on the sidelines where there are very tiny pews, two-seaters. That way you're off to the side and not right smack in the middle of it all.
On a side note, I like to watch the people who take up the collection. They are always the most stern looking people you will ever encounter. They look really cool walking down the aisle with the collection plates after people are done donating. They always walk really fast and very purposefully, as though they're a mob gang cruising down a dark alley at night. Always dressed in dark colours too, sort of skulk around the pews, looking mysterious. They disappear into the back room with the collection plates, closing the door behind them. When we were in confirmation training when I was 14, some of the boys used to joke and say that they were taking the dough and going out to party.

I was thinking about telephone salespeople who call you up at home and try to get you to buy something. They're instructed not to take no for an answer. To keep going no matter what the customer says and not quit until they make a sale. Well isn't that kind of like another form of stealing. It's basically blackmail. They won't let you off the phone until you buy something that you probably can't afford and that you don't really need but buy anyway just to get off the phone. Of course, we always have the option of just hanging up don't we, but what about those weak souls who are too chicken to hang up and who don't know how to say no. They end up buying something even though they don't want it and perhaps can't afford it. So isn't that stealing in a way?

I hate talk shows and try to stay away from them as much as possible, but sometimes I end up watching for a few minutes. The host and the guest being interviewed always do the same thing when the commercial break comes on and we pan away from them. The last thing we see before we go to commercial is always one of them leaning closely in towards the other one and saying something very animatedly. I wonder what it is they say to each other. Do they even say anything at all or is it just acting for the cameras so that they don't sit there like two bumps on a log and stare as we pan out to the commercial?

New Year's Resolutions

With every new year come old and new ambitions and enter the limelight of my mind.
As always this year, everything feels raher empty and grey, so I try to combat it by making plans. Right now I'm trying to organize a trip to the mountains at Easter with a group of family and friends. The problem is that I'm the only one who is taking any initiative and probably the only one who wants to go. The others are either oblivious or not sure if they want to go. Well, as I've learned the hard way, it's impossible trying to control other people's actions. So I just have to accept that they'll go if they want to and if they don't I'll just have to deal with it. There's something really degrading to me about nagging people anyway. I hate trying to get people to do what they don't really want to do. I used to be a real desperate nagger once, especially when I was a kid, and it's damned frustrating and most often a complete waste of time.
Control freak that I am though I can't let it go at that, but instead have to keep obsessing and dropping subtle hints until a booking has been made and the plans are definite. As it stands right now I have done all I can. I've made my intentions clear and will have to drop it and let people make up their own minds.
It's partly because I desperately need to have something to look forward to, no matter how far down the line it is. Right now it feels like the only thing that lies ahead is greyness.

That's partly why I have made some new year's resolutions, or plans, I suppose one could call them.

First of all, I need to really buckle down and finish that book. It has a long way to go and if I ever want to finish it I have to force myself to write, as hard as it is for me these days.

I also want to try horseback riding. I haven't been able to before since I have always been allergic. Now that my allergy to horses seems to have gone away I want to try riding. I love horses.

I want to try making more money and setting some money aside. I'm tired of living month to month.

I'm going to get my business license. This is a very practical, necessary matter since I don't want to lose any assignments simply because I don't have my own business.

I'm going to cut down on how much alcohol I drink. I'm prone to drowning my boredom and sadness, or anxiety. This has to stop.

I think this does it for now. These are enough things to work on.

I just have to try and look for the bright spots in my life even when everything does seem grey and monotonous. It's nobody's fault but my own. Nobody can create adventure and success in my life but me. It's not going to just appear on my doorstep by itself. The big question is, how do I do this?

What's the secret?

Mamma Mia! Abba is great, musicals...not so much

The movie "Mamma Mia" was on T.V tonight I finally watched it, after many glowing recommendations and astounded "What! You haven't seen Mamma Mia??" from people.
I didn't like it as much as I had anticipated but that's probably because people built it up so much that it didn't have anywhere to go but down.
I love Abba. I grew up with their music and I love their songs, especially Chiquitita, which was not featured in the movie.
I also like the actors in "Mamma Mia", especially Colin Firth and Meryl Streep. It was a treat to see Colin Firth dressed in a 70's Abba costume singing alongside Pierce Brosnan and Stellan Skarsgård. I always like it when an actor who always does dramatic movies takes on a completely different role, especially when they do it really well.
I just cannot embrace musicals though. Much as I love Abba, I prefer to listen to their music separately and see a movie separately. Music is music and film is film, and for me it doesn't click well when they mix. I always sit there and expect them, or dread to be more accurate, to burst into song at any moment, which they always do when you least expect them to.
It rubs me the wrong way when a character is peeling a potato one minute and then suddenly burst out into song. That didn't actually happen in "Mamma Mia" but it's an example of the kind of things that you can expect in musicals. I know that the characters are expressing themselves through music but for me it's just an annoyance. When I realize that another song is coming on I let out a deep sigh inside and wish they would just get on with it. Here you have a dramatic moment and you're dying to find out what happens next in the story, and suddenly they start singing and dancing for 5 minutes straight.
When it comes to movies, I'm all about speaking dialogue. I don't mind music in movies, as long as it's in the background and not being sung out by the characters. In "Mamma Mia" the songs sometimes came almost back to back, and even though it is a musical, I didn't expect that.
It was an enjoyable movie though, even though I was disappointed that we never get to find out which one of the three men is Sophie's father.
Also, I have to say, I prefer Abba being sung by Abba and no one else. There's just something about the sound of them. Brings back fond memories of childhood.
Clogs, Abba posters and Agneta's long, blond hair which I always envied.