Tuesday, December 30, 2008

Friday, December 26, 2008

It's a small world

This week I had a little online chat with a friend.
She asked me whether I could remember a guy who I apparently have talked with at a concert in my home town once. I couldn't. I can't even remember the last concert I've been at there.
She said she had a One Night Stand with this great guy last night. It turned out that he is not only the ex of her cousins long-term girlfriend, but also knows this guy she had the hots for for years since they were two.
What a small world! They randomnly met in another city.

Anyway, he apparently told her he had talked with me shortly on some concert and I had something alien-like on my head. Then it dawned on me: I was in a theatre group called Ten Sing. Once a year we wrote a play, and had a choir and a band performance included. The one with the alien was the last concert I took part, and I played an alien that was studying humans. That's about 10 years ago!
Still can't remember the guy though.

As much as I feel flattered that I am remembered after such a long time, it worries me slightly that I'm remembered with little silver antennae on my head... Read more on this article...

Wednesday, December 24, 2008

Merry Christmas!

My family had decided that we would celebrate Christmas at my bonus dad's brother's place, this year. And what a time we had. We arrive there at 3:15pm and immediately the alcohol is brought out. I don't mind, as I like the alcohol. We chat with friends and family and come dinner, we are overwhelmed by an enormous amount of delicious food. To all of our surprise, they've made enough food to feed an entire nation. We stuff ourselves full and begin watching 'Donal Duck wishes a merry Christmas' on TV - a mighty fine Christmas tradition here in Sweden.

Suddenly we are interrupted. We notice there is someone knocking on the door. 'Who is it?!' the entire crowd goes. No one answers. With frightened steps someone - I can't remember who - approaches the door and opens it. And there he is. Santa Clause is standing in the hallway. Joy lights up in everyones face as they see him and his sack full of presents. But I can't help but think that there is something odd about this Santa. I am very suspicious about him. Something just isn't right. He is very happy. He is nothing like the Santa Clause I met when I was but a child.

At my dad's. The year is 1995. In pure excitement I am looking out the kitchen window, scanning the surrounding for any signs of a fat, red man with a beard and lots of presents. Time is moving slowly and even back then I was a very impatient boy. I start to get a little frustrated waiting for him. But then - there he is, walking down the street towards our house. I let out a yelp in excitement and rush to get my father to witness this Christmas miracle. As we look out the window we see him entering the gate. But there is a problem: it is not our gate that he has entered. It takes a while for him to get back out from where he has been. I notice that he is looking very lost. I brush it off and make my way to the living room where I continue my anticipation for Santa to arrive.

After 10 minutes someone is knocking on the door. Santa has found his way, at last. My father goes to open the door while I'm sitting on the couch, about to burst from pure joy. Then he walks in and our eyes meet. I suddenly freeze all movements. He is staring at me with such intensity that I become scared. He slowly walks up to me until he is a mere 20cm's from me and looks down at me with stern eyes. He coughs, and I notice that he smells of a very strong scent. I can't quite identify what it is, so I let it pass. With a broken voice he asks me if I've been a good boy. I nod my head in a scared and nervous manner. He doesn't say anything. He simply continues to stand there, letting a minute pass. Then he drops his sack on the ground with a thump, and I flinch out of fear. Another minute passes without either of us moving an inch or saying anything before he finally turns around and staggers his way out.

I conclude that Santa is weird. My father agrees. Then I return to year 2008 and I say to myself: "This one is definitely a fake".

Merry Christmas! Read more on this article...

Monday, December 22, 2008


My friend's test came back clean. She is still in remission. They are going to do a procedure to clean out the rest of the polyps because they are potentially cancerous, but are not actually malignant. Yay! Read more on this article...

Sunday, December 21, 2008


On a nice Saturday evening like this, I like to drink my Cola out of a wineglass. I've found it to be an easy way to add a little flare to your life. Bring you that extra bit of sophistication that you so desperately crave. Read more on this article...

Monday, December 15, 2008

A perch. On the bridge.

At work. I am assigned the task to, using a forklift I've never operated before, bring a huge load of bottles to our working station. With nervous feet I approach the forklift and get on it. I stare at all the various buttons and levers with a look of sheer confusion. After three minutes I finally figure out how to turn it on and I do so. I slowly but gently get it rolling in the direction I'm supposed to head towards. As I roll down the enormous labyrinth that is Coca Cola AB I start to get the hang of it; I start to become more confident and thus giving me the courage to step on the gas a bit more. I start to feel really good. 'This is easy', I think to myself. Then I arrive at my destination. I pull one of the levers towards me and pick up my cargo. And then it happens. The thing I've been fearing for several days finally happens. Coca Cola's own Schumacher comes blazing past me and yells at me not to get in his way and that I'm slowing him down. He is very upset. In panic I try to move my forklift out of his way, granting him passage to move through. After a while I succeed and off he goes, with an annoyed look on his face, muttering 'damn trainees'.

Silence falls. I am completely still, not moving an inch from where I am sitting down. I look down on the ground in shame. And then I suddenly get angry. I never meant for this to happen. I just wanted to get my load. 'Ass-face', I scream. A completely meaningless fit of rage. Like the perch's last jerk on the bridge. Read more on this article...

Thursday, December 11, 2008

It's scary

A friend of mine confessed to me yesterday that she might be out of remission--that is, her cancer may be coming back. She was put in remission about two years ago. She fears it's moved to her colon due to the symptoms she's having. She's scared. Her boyfriend doesn't want to face the possibility of her cancer returning, so she tells me. Like any good friend, I give a cheer and say we can beat it!

But she doesn't want to, rather she doesn't want to put herself through the trio she (un)affectionately calls "cut, burn, and poison", which is surgery, radiation, and chemotherapy. The last time she went through it, she described it as torture. She said she just wants to go to a tropical location, with a caretaker, where she can just pass away. She then told me how she wanted her mortal coil to be dealt with, and what she would leave me. I was horrified.

This is the girl who held my hand after I slashed my arm to ribbons, who shared to best conversations with, who was so strong in the face of everything -- except this. She wasn't even sure if there was a war yet, but she was already throwing up the white flag. She wouldn't hear my protests, saying fighting cancer destoryed her life the first vtime and it was just recently she managed to get everything into working order. But I told her it was fight and possibly lose everything, or not fight and lose it anyway. She didn't care.

I've never felt so helpless. Her test results come back tomorrow. Read more on this article...

Tuesday, December 9, 2008

Friday, December 5, 2008


So Janne, wonderful soul that he is, invited me to be a contributor this blog. I love blogging rather much. I have three of my own and I now have this one. So hopefully I can come up with something interesting to write about.


I'll just introduce myself right now. I'm Erica. I'm 22, American, of German/Italian decent, college chick, and I'm a professional ecdysiast. I grew up pretty rough but I think I turned out okay. I love music, mostly music I grew up with, namely Korn, Nine Inch Nails, Ausioslave, Soundgarden, and Alice in Chains (I love AIC intensely, almost sexually, lol). I have some love for current music, like Paramore, Rise Against, and Porcelain and the Tramps. I like pink, all shades.

Otherthan that I'm boring. Read more on this article...

Tuesday, December 2, 2008

Gems among rocks.

You know how it is. You just happen to stumble upon a song that you like and you instantly fall for it. And then you look up the name of the song and what band it is, and you download it. You put the song on play, and you put it on repeat. You play it again and again, neglecting every other song you have in your music library. It comes to a point where you become obsessed over it. You find yourself trying to make out all the subtle tunes hidden somewhere along the grand saga; tunes that you won’t find unless you carefully concentrate on certain parts of the song. You find yourself unable to describe what exactly it is about this song that manages to strike that special chord in your heart.

How I love this feeling.

This happened to me today. The song is none other than ‘Karma police’ by Radiohead. I’ve had this song on my phone for two months now, and today was the first time I heard it. I have always just skipped this song, thinking that I won’t like it. But today was different. The song started playing when my hands were busy, not able to reach into my pockets, pick up my phone and change the song. And for that I am very glad. Now I can’t help but wonder how many hidden gems I have left on my phone to discover.

Read more on this article...

Sunday, November 30, 2008

Broken Toy

It was never planned. Never intended. Never even thought of.

I listened to him. Like I listen to many. I like to think I help them. They talk to me, they tell. I try to help, over the distance.
I don’t know what it was that made him a bit different. Maybe he has a way with words. Maybe…no, I don’t know. I still don’t understand.

I'm not sure how it happened. Just one day, suddenly, it went from the harmless, common virtual kisses and hugs to...more intimate things.
It is hard to describe. There's no way to make someone understand, I guess. It will always just sound incredibly stupid. So I'll just say that it was more intense than I thought it could be.

He’s young, very young. Maybe even not quite legal yet. The age when they're eager, always horny, a bit bad-tempered, wild, full of energy, easy to excite, in the middle of the process of growing up and of discovering sexuality.
I tried to teach him a bit.

We knew it was madness. Amour Fou if there ever was one. We never dreamed of a relationship. Our dream was a weekend in a hotel room.
Fou – mad indeed. He disappeared for months and I was worried senseless. Tried every means of contact. Later when I was so close to him on a holiday, hoping to meet, my madness got too obsessive and very nearly turned me into a stalker.

He keeps doing that: Leaving and then coming back. He never expects anything when coming back but always gets it.
It leaves me puzzled. I’m defenseless with him. He can hurt me in an instant without intent, and turn me into a crying heartbroken girl.
I lose all reason. I lose all strength.

I used to call him my toy boy. But it’s not true. In this relationship, despite the age difference, he’s the one being reasonable. I guess it’s more me, the one being a toy. But not quite.
I don’t have a word for this. I can’t explain.

I wish I could understand and I am often wondering about it: how could this happen? There is no physical presence messing with my mind. How is this possible? What is it about him?
Whenever I tell others about him they see it: he’s an ass. He would most probably be the very first one to say so. So why do I like him? Still do, after he hurt me so many times. I guess I couldn’t just make it stop even if I knew.
But it bugs me that I completely do not understand it.

Any way.
I lost him. Read more on this article...

Monday, November 24, 2008


I did it. Finally decided to register at some online dating site.
My reasons are mainly boredom and curiosity. To some extend professional interest. I saw the internet develop and it still fascinates me. Most social aspects of the net interest me. I keep an eye out on Anonymous, discuss the pros and cons of cyber sex... you name it.
I admit I have thought about joining a dating site before, many months ago. I found a website rating them, very convenient. I took a closer look at three: FriendScout24, iLove and match.com. For a first test I decided on match.com. This is only a first test, mainly for me to do a profile. Even though according to this analysis there are 66% men and many from my area, I don't expect any contact yet. Why? Because you can only send (and answer!) messages when you pay. And of course I don't intend to do that.

First problem: user name. As always all the good ones are already taken. And I hate to add numbers. Of course I won't use anything having to do with my real name, neither my internet alias - both of which would probably still be available. So I try around a bit, very close to giving up the whole idea again. Until I settle for one with the use of underscores. Well, better than numbers, I guess.
I do a quick search for guys in my area, age 18 to 30. As expected not much interesting. Three worth a click. But this is just a test anyway.

So now for the most interesting, difficult and feared part: my profile. First of all my place of living. How much distance to search around? I have no idea, so I take the default. Then I have to get up again and get the measure tape. I take my size on the wall, with wool socks. Haven't done that in a while. It's about 157 cm - damn I'm small. Then my general body size... How would I judge that? Had they asked for cloth sizes - but no. What is "corpulent"? It sounds like an extreme, so I don't choose that. It's certainly neither athletic nor slim. So what's left is "a bit more" and "average". I remember hearing about the average size of German women and think that probably that kinda fits me. Probably "a bit more" would have been more sincere. First page done.

Eyes and hair colour - easy. No tattoos, no piercings. I ignore the ones in my ears cause they need re-opening. Then: my best part? Oh god. I've been told I have a nice smile, but I don't see anything particularly special about it. I guess I like my eyes best. It's terribly cliché, but it's gonna be "eyes" then.
Interests. They're optional, so I ignore most of the free text fields. They have yoga as sports so I click on that; for the sake of having at least one in that section activated. What activities I'd like to share with a partner? Hell, how should I know? I've been a single for years. I just click on some spontaneously, like rock music and movies and such.

Sports: Couch Potato? But no, I started doing Aikido, so I choose "does sports rarely". They don't have my drinking habits, so I choose "drinks in company". That's not true. I sometimes drink alone. I work in IT. I earn less than 25.000 Euro a year (had to calculate that roughly). No kids, don't want. Live alone. Like cats, don't own any. Am of boringly European heritage, nothing more to say about that. I choose "atheist" as religion. I guess I am. My education... Now that makes me think again. The options are badly chosen. Why is there a difference between diploma and academic? I do have a diploma and very nearly had a Master of Science. Does that make me an academic? Or doesn't it because my diploma is from a "Fachhochschule" and officially worth less than a normal university diploma? I decide on "academic". As languages I choose German and English. Me being able to speak French would be simply lying. Even more so with Japanese.

Preferences about my date. "My Date". Sounds a bit exaggerated... Heritage - I don't care. Age? I was afraid of that question. Let's try to be sincere. 18 up to...30? I'm being generous and choose 35. Height? I have no idea, defaults will be alright, I guess. Eye colour - don't care. Everything can be beautiful. Hair colour. I feel inclined to say don't care, too. But grey? White? Bald? No. So I choose everything but those three. And yes, it's kinda important. I love long hair and bald is just too far from it. I go on with being shallow and choose everything except corpulent for the next option. I'm not too sure about athletic though. I hate guys with huge muscles, they make me nauseous. Ok, so to be on the safe side no athletic either.

Religion: I choose atheist, agnostic, no religion and buddhist. There are some I never heard of, but I'm too lazy to look them up. I give it the medium importance, too - I guess I wouldn't get along very well with religious people. So the next one is education. Again the options confuse me, so I simply choose everything except the lowest kind of school. Languages German and English, don't care about profession and income. Smoking? Again I'm feeling generous and choose everything except regular/heavy smoker. Same goes for alcohol. Even more generosity about the relationships and I click on "don't care" whether they're divorced. The thought frightens me a bit that people my age might already be divorced, but... oh well. Too frightening is the thought of him having kids, though. No. Then there's a small list of preferences the partner should have. Weird options: dancing, power, sarcasm, long hair, candle light, money... Again I don't care about most, I just give a yes to intellect and sarcasm and a no to power and money.

So far, so easy. But now: A headline to my profile? Not optional this time. I have no idea what to write. None whatsoever. So I decide to do some other things, surf the web, write this. It's late, I wasn't out the whole day. I don't feel like shopping, but I guess I need some food and stuff. But it won't let me safe and do it some other time. And the next thing is a description of me and what I'm looking for, with a minimum of 200 letters. That will probably take me hours, so I decide to go out and buy stuff now.

But back from doing the shopping I procrastinate some more. A lot more. The whole rest of the day actually. Watched a movie on TV, then a comedy show afterwards. And read an e-book until very late at night. I then decided to make it another test: what happened if I simply log off, or in this case close the browser, before completing it?

The whole next week I didn't log in again. I did get some emails however. Daily ones with "partner suggestions" and at least two asking me to finish my profile.
The next weekend I logged in again, determined to finish it this time. I'm old enough and it can't be too hard to write a few words to describe myself, right? And since I'm not really serious about it, it shouldn't matter at all what I write. But this is a test. I want to do it right.

So... 200 words about me and what I'm looking for. I just start writing. Or want to... Though being determined, it's harder to start than I thought. Second try works then. I can write 250 words in one go. It's less than it sounds. Then I try to turn off my inner censor and just go on writing. I manage to add a few more sentences. Which may describe me well, but not very favourably. I've never been very good at all this "advertising for yourself" stuff. After about 625 words I decide it's enough. I wrote something about feeling younger than I am and still estranged where I live and blah blah.

Now I need a caption, a headline for my profile. To help me think of something witty I take out "The Wit & Wisdom of Discworld" and look for a quote that might fit. Of course it doesn't help at all, since Pratchett rarely writes about romance and never about the internet. But it reminds me that I wanted to order something at amazon. I learned about advertisement - a catchy headline is important. I can't think about anything catchy about me though. Doing MySpace profiles is a lot easier. I take a look at mine and it gets me an idea: I quoted part of the song "Reaching Out" on there. As a whole, too depressive. I decide to take the title of the song and finally be done with it. Yes! Send it. But then: shock. Session timed out. I'm quick-witted enough to use the back-button of the browser and copy the text I had written. And I was right: after logging in again all I had written had disappeared. So I paste the text in again, add the caption and save it.

I get asked whether I want to be "Spotlight-member". Apparently for two weeks they might use your profile for their advertising or something. Hell no - don't want. So their customer service will now take up to 48 hours to check my profile.
Next thing I need: a picture. Of course I expected this and already decided on one. It's a bit older, April 2007, and shows me without glasses. But it's one of the best I have. Especially without revealing too much of me. Since it's not allowed to post a link, I have to save it to my PC and upload it again. Again they say they'll check my picture in the next 48 hours. Then they try to sell me a premium membership. At least now they point out that with a free membership you can neither send nor answer to messages.

Now I've completed my profile. But since I'm already logged in, I decide to try out their personality test. I like taking such tests.
First thing is to compare my right hand with pictures that are shown. Ok - the lenghth of the fingers on my right hand says something about my personiality? I'm left-handed, by the way. Following are questions about whether I'm the oldest/middle/youngest child, about relationships, about my friends (what friends?), about what I do Saturdays (haha), about what I think of myself. Mostly the usual stuff. And two games about visual illusions - the first one I finished perfectly within 11 seconds, the second one wasn't quite perfect.
The result: I'm a diplomat (30%). The other parts are: Pioneer - 27%, Entrepreneur (maybe they didn't translate that right into German) - 26% and Adventurer - 18% (no surprise there).
I wonder what the fingers of my right hand had to do with this.

Finally: Done.
Now there's only to wait what happens...
Read more on this article...

Saturday, November 22, 2008

The Worst Halloween Ever

Read more on this article...

At the bank.

At the bank. In the morning. I enter the warm and comfortable surroundings of the bank office after having walked all the way there in the freezing cold. I get a ticket from a que-machine that reads “227”. There are nine people before me in line. I come to the conclusion that it’ll take thirty to fifty minutes, approximately, before my turn is here. I try heading for the seats where I can sit and relax until it is my turn. To get there I have to pass a line of people. I register in my field of vision a beautiful woman standing in line, most likely in her early to mid-twenties. I instantly re-direct my route so that I have to pass her to get to the seats. I know I somehow have to catch her attention and alarm her that I have to go through, so that she’ll move aside for a second. I am looking forward to it, because I love her hair. It is long and blond, slight curls at the end and I can see from here that it smells like the ocean, the heaven or something in that general direction. It’s hair that is so smooth that you can never quite get it. Take a grip on it and it’ll just slide from your hand, free as it ever was, leaving you dumbfounded where you stand.

She doesn’t show much skin, it being winter and all, but her skin is still present. I close in on her and I look forward to gently placing my hand on her shoulder, a message that “Hey, I have to go through”, but also an alibi for a sensual touch. I am very close to her now. And then it happens. She notices me and the direction my feet are heading. She smiles at me a smile that gives me a sense of inner peace, before she takes a step to the side allowing me to pass by. It is so incredibly tragic, as I had really looked forward to that touch. I walk past her without the chance of touching her even in the slightest and find my way to a seat that looks comfortable enough.

There is something very disgusting about this that I can’t put my finger on.

Read more on this article...

Tuesday, November 18, 2008

The Fountain.

I am re-publishing this review of mine for the third time. I do it because I'm not quite satisfied with the interest it has generated thus far: I genuinely feel that this movie deserves more noise than it has gotten. So here we go again. Third time's a charm.

Trying to illustrate mankind's universal quest to find the ultimate cure for death is almost something that borders on hubris. Do I think Darren Aronofsky was successful in avoiding all the mundane clichés when attempting such a theme with this movie? I can, without a doubt, say I do. Aronofsky has created a movie that successfully portrays perhaps the most painful thing we can ever experience as humans: love and death. It's a movie whose universe is solely dependent on every single part being placed correct; that every atmosphere has it's own corresponding mindset. If even the slightest bit falls out of synchronization, it all falls apart. Aronofsky's visionary force and monumental metaphorical language keeps that from happening.

This movie weaves a tail that goes on for a thousand years before finally coming to a halt. From the medieval Spain to a highly advanced technological future. In the center of this epic tale we follow scientist Thomas Creo (Hugh Jackman) and his beloved wife Isabel (Rachel Weisz), who suffers from cancer, in all their incarnations. The movie is about the modern mans relationship with death. Aronofsky wants to depict our role in the circle of life, and show how creation and destruction are forever bound together.

Does that sound like some quasi-Buddhist new-age crap? It sure does, if you ask me. However, the movie is saved by Aronofsky never becoming sleazy in his work, and his ability to consistently tell this story.

As brilliant as Aronofsky is, I cannot let all the credit go to him on this one. At first, I was a bit skeptical at Aronofsky's choice regarding actors, but that changed very quickly: both Hugh Jackman and Rachel Weisz make a brilliant effort in this movie and manage to give their respective characters both heart and weight behind them. They both had extremely tough roles to play, especially Weisz who could have easily ended up as a cliché image of "the enlightened woman", and I was surprised beyond belief at how well they got into their roles. Both of these main characters share a nice chemistry between them which makes the story both touching and believable.

With "The Fountain", Aronofsky has created a serious movie about life, death and most of all, love. As with most of his previous movies, this one is much the same in the way that it's either brilliant or horrible. I'm suspecting many will accuse it of being the latter, but personally I found it a very strong movie experience - one that I will carry with me for a long time. Read more on this article...

Mental Emetics

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