Unexpected Kindness
Yesterday I was on a little (read: long) trip. It was quite a tiresome and intense outing. Finally, the day ended and I could get some rest.
My mom went with me. On one of the trains, we sat opposite a man who didn’t look particularly nice. Then a mobile phone rang and mom said: Is that mine? Suddenly, the man who sat facing us smiled and said, in a quite a friendly tone: “No, that’s mine”. And he turned it off. What do you know? People might look unfriendly and be nice anyway.
On the way back, there was this guy who didn’t look at all unfriendly, but he turned out to be even nicer than we’d expected. He happened to overhear mom saying she had a headache and was waiting for the serving cart to come onboard the train. The guy said: “I think there’s a coffee machine somewhere on the train”. A little later I was beginning to wonder what had happened to a rather big banknote that I had earlier. It wasn’t in any of my pockets. Then the guy asked us if we needed some change.
It’s always pleasant to get a positive surprise.
An old craft
First there was Gutenberg, in 15th century Germany. His invention wasn’t popular with everyone in the establishment. This evolved. Later on, there was even mass production of books.
You might be wondering, why I find this so interesting. It’s very simple. I make my own books. Of course, I also write books and naturally I read other books too, my own, and those that have already been published.
But I’m also learning how to bind books. When my teacher/instructor, who is also my mother, has taught me this fantastic art, I’ll be able to create books from a pile of paper, bind paperbacks or other ‘simpler’ types of books, and repair torn books.
Even if I hadn’t been a writer (of course I’m a writer, even if I haven’t been published – yet) I would have wanted to know how to do this. In case that hasn’t been made clear to you yet, I love books.
But binding books has a more direct connection to my own family. I happen to belong to the third generation of bookbinders in this family.. Some of the tools and other things you need to bind books, have been handed down to my mother from her father, my grandfather.
My mother and I are using the same tools my grandfather did, fifty years ago and more, and we are practicing the same craft.
We even have an old black and white photo of him sewing a book, as it is called in bookbinding. The sewing frame is still here too, and we use it. That’s continuity.
People have been able to make books for close to six hundred years, and here we are, at our house, doing the same thing, more or less. Of course, we’re amateurs, and I’m only starting to learn, but still. My mother and I, and all the other amateur bookbinders are carrying on this old craft.
That’s pretty fantastic. Cool, quite simply. The 15th century meets the 21.
The Revolution
A part of the revolution (and evolution). It feels a little like that. One little link in the long chain since the the art of writing was invented in Mesopotamia maybe five thousand years ago.
In an article that I read recently it says that the blog – the one you’re reading now is just one example among many – is a part of the evolution since Gutenberg invented the printing process. So – you and I and everyone else are a stage of the evolution.
In this article there was also something really interesting about how this collective way of expressing oneself will affect our ‘collective brain’ and society.
Really fascinating and we – you and I and all other bloggers – are a part of the revolution. We are watching history being made.
Once upon a time, printed books were viewed as a threat against high culture. Today the internet might be perceived as more of a threat than an asset. Others don’t ‘believe’ in the blog. But if the spies don’t win, if the greedy money grabbers are allowed to win, then maybe five hundred years from now, we’ll look back on the breakthrough for the internet as a new phase in cultural history and blogging as a part of journalism, as important as perspective in art, recorded music, literature in the form of printed books or printed newspapers.
Not so long ago, you couldn’t find out about current affairs and incidents that might have occurred, by opening your paper in the morning. People didn’t know what a paper was. Nowadays you can get news in many different forms, but back then you had to be grateful if you could hear about something, orally, from someone who had been present and seen what was going on.
It’s easy to forget that a blog isn’t just a cool kind of homepage, where you can post photos of yourself or post quizzes with images.
Think about the crisis in Burma – the blog was one of the most important ways of communicating with the outside world. That might give you another view of blogging. The medium is certainly versatile and important.
Long live the blog!
Smart Dog
The other day Fiammetta, my lhasa apso, and I were going into my room. To get there, we have to go through a couple of other rooms first. Fiammetta’s eyesight isn’t 100% and sometimes she sniffs doors and furniture to be able to tell where she’s going. I noticed her hesitating about the direction, even though we walk around the house every day, and I said ‘a little to your left’.
(She might not have been hesitating as much as thinking or considering whether she needed to sit down and clean up or scratch herself. She tends to stop and ponder matters a lot, which can be irritating at times.)
Guess what she did? She did turn left and walked into our room with no trouble at all. Of course, she hardly ever has trouble, but she usually doesn’t get there quite that quickly, mainly because she has so many other things to do, even if I’m in a hurry. I mean, what does human business concern her, right?
Outrageously expensive computer stuff
For quite a while now, I’ve had some trouble with the adapter for my iBook. I’ve been getting really fed up with all that mess. It takes maybe ten minutes every time I start up the computer to get the green (or orange) light to come on.
Then finally I thought I’d get a new one. I looked at some websites and once I finally found the right one, I realized to my horror that it costs over 80 US dollars!
Ok, don’t say it. You probably think I can blame myself for getting a Mac. But I really think it’s worth the higher price, except when the adapter is acting up. For instance, I’m going to buy extra RAM. That’s expensive too, but I think that with all the extra capacity you get out of the computer, it’s worth it.
I really don’t know what Steve Jobs is thinking. Didn’t it ever occur to him that it’s the volume that generates the profit, not the high prices?
Now I’ll be getting some duct tape and each time it takes me ten minutes or more to fiddle with the computer, I’ll be thinking of the eighty bucks I’m saving.
Career?
Recently, I read about two people in my online community, who were in the movie industry. Once several years ago, I chatted with a girl who was studying forensics and was going to be an FBI agent, at least she told me that. Who knows if it was true? She didn’t seem to be fibbing, that’s all I can say.
Anyway, finding out about these people, who seem to be fulfilling their potential made my anxiety hit even worse. It’s like twisting a knife in a wound. And no, I’m not envious. I’m glad for them. They must work a whole lot harder than I could force myself to, the way I am now, and they probably have a lot more talent than I do, so it’s not going to happen to me anyway.
It’s just that reading about people who have great careers, even if they’re not famous or anything like that, hurts. Hurts more than if I just read about people who make a living. I’d be glad to do that too, if I could, but it doesn’t hurt because they’re just running the rat race like everyone else, not realizing their dreams.
The thing is, I’ve never had much self confidence and I’ve always been a low energy person. Some people might say I’m lazy. Let them. If it makes them feel better about themselves, they can knock themselves out.
You see, I suffer from this fatigue. And pain. Depression, anxiety. You name it, I got it. But explanations don’t really help. I want to do something that makes me if not happy, then at least a little glad. A little content.
I guess that for some people, even the most basic things that most people can take for granted will always be out of reach. All my life, people have been saying things like ‘it takes hard work to make it’. ‘Just go for it’. Etc. Ad nauseam. Sure, I’d love to work hard, if I knew what at. I’ve just never known. It’s like I’m blind or something.
You probably don’t want to know what it is that I’d like to do, but this is my blog and I’ll tell you anyway. I write. Make up stories. Having my novels published would be great. Someone, a journalist, who was kind enough to read one of my stories, thought I should try to get my stories turned into movies (or tv series, I guess). That would make me feel great.
Failing that, I’d like to work in a bookstore, library, museum or archive. All that would be fun. A magazine maybe. Possibly a daily newspaper, if I got to write a column on the last page. Fluff. Not the kind of thing with a deadline that really feels life threatening.
Still, it seems that what the world has to offer is working with people. Not really what I want to do, but sure, I can do it and I do. Believe me, I’m grateful for every chance I can get to make a little money.
I mean, I’m not a plant. Sunshine and water won’t keep me alive. Sunshine? Yeah, that stuff we had last year. Water we do have. It falls from the sky all the time, so if I could live on that alone, I’d be home free, but well, that’s not how it is.
So, to sum things up. I’m here, not doing what I want to do, and having not the faintest idea of how to get there. I guess I got lost somewhere along the way.
More Whining
Our neighbors are harassing us. It’s been going on for years. From the time my dad died. I guess they think they can pick on mom now that she’s a widow. They report us anonymously for all kinds of things. The funny thing is that when these complaints against us are investigated, it turns out we haven’t done anything wrong. And still all this goes on. We can’t do anything to defend ourselves.
That’s why I’ve decided on a course of action. Since they can do this to us, I’ll do the same to them. I’m going to report them, anonymously, for all kinds of things. If the investigations show that they aren’t guilty of what they’ve been accused of, it doesn’t matter, right? We can’t complain. That has to mean they can’t either. Right?
Just in case, so that things don’t get any worse for us, I’ll wait until we’ve moved out. We’re trying to get away from here. It’s not that easy, but as soon as we’ve managed it, I’m going to get my revenge on these neighbors. In a perfectly legal way. Exactly like they’ve been harassing us for all these years. I can hardly think of any people who deserve it more.
Girl Detectives and Wounded Crows
The other day I read a rather interesting article in Guardian Unlimited, which I assume is the web version of the British paper, The Guardian.
In any case, the article was about classic girl books. The writer wrote about how she’d grown up with and identified with the tough tomboys, like George in Enid Blyton’s Five books and – a slightly odd choice, in my opinion – Nancy Drew, the Girl Detective. These days there are plenty of mysteries for children and young adults, but back then I’m sure it was more rare.
In the article the author makes several good points and she also quotes Mark Twain, about what constitues a heoine. It’s sarcastic, but sadly true.
I just have to mention some late versions of George and Nancy.
First Lisa Simpson. I haven’t watched that much of the Simpsons (true), but I really admire Lisa anyway. She’s a tough, independent girl, who stands up for what she believes in, despite a lot of negative responses.
Since this is about Nancy, I just have to mention Veronica Mars, a Nancy for the 21 century. She’s tough and independent too, and a skilled professional, all at the age of eighteen.
But this was supposed to be about George and Nancy.
I remember that I found it odd to realize that my mother might have grown up with the same books. She didn’t, maybe by accident, but I’m also guessing the Nancy Drew and the Five books weren’t translated that early. Mom did read a lot by ‘Edith Blyton’ as the children in Sweden thought her name was back then.
I recall reading these books too (not all, but definitely Nancy Drew and the Five books). I didn’t identify with the girls as much as with the boys. I didn’t feel like a boy, but I couldn’t help noticing they got the best adventures.
Unfortunately, even at that age, I realized that though George tried to look like a boy, which I wouldn’t have minded at that age, if my body had been suited for it, she didn’t have a future as a boy. No matter how good she was at ‘serious’ subjects and no matter how strong and acrobatic, she would be forced into the girly-girl trap as an adult.
At least I knew I lived in another time and things would be different for me (ha ha). In any case, I didn’t give two hoots about the neat, well behaved girly-girls. I fell in love with the cutest, sweetest boys, but at the same time, I wanted to be them, at least while I read the book.
Most of all, though, I got into the adventures. It’s no coincidence that I consider myself a writer, though an unpublished one. The plot was more important to me, though personally, I work more on the characters and the dialogue. Those weren’t particularly important in the Nancy Drew or Five books, if I remember correctly.
Mysteries weren’t the only books I read. I literally devoured books. Mainly mysteries and fantasy but also books about horses, dogs and much more. Not that many romantic novels, and I still don’t. First of all, the love story didn’t hook me, and secondly, the ‘hero’ isn’t my thing either. They’re usually too sexist.
I want a sweet, shy, cute guy, preferably someone who’s a victim or has been hurt somehow. In the mystery I’m currently ‘reading’ (it’s an audio book I borrowed from mom) a girl describes the guy she’s in love with like this: He’s a real man, not some wounded crow. Then it hit me. I want a wounded crow. And I want to identify with a tough, but not mean girl.
Is that too much to ask?
In any case, I’m glad I read these books about relatively tough, active girls. It hasn’t changed my life in practice, but it’s definitely helped shape my personality. So now you know. It’s George’s and Nancy’s fault that I am the way I am.
Second Life – a Language School?
It’s kind of funny. I’ve been a member of a number of different language sites and I still use one regularly. Many different people contact me, wanting to ‘learn’ Swedish, without taking any classes. Some just want to practice their English. No one stays in touch for long. I can’t say I’ve had much use for the exchange.
Strangely enough, in the relatively short time I’ve been in Second Life, I’ve already felt that I can express myself more freely, especially in French and Spanish. Not as much in Italian and German, but at least there’s some improvement.
I don’t have that many close friends in SL, but that doesn’t really matter. The constantly new people who want advice or help or – in some cases- who want to help me, will ask or tell me things in their languages. I need to find the right words or expressions quickly, almost as if I was in France or Spain or wherever it is.
Sure I need to let go of my demands for perfection. My sentences tend to be simple and basic, as I used to express myself in the years before I first went to school (when it comes to Swedish) or the first years of learning English (roughly ten to thirteen).
That’s not really a problem. I can make myself understood and my brief acquaintances appreciate the fact that I respond in their languages. It might be hard to believe, but there are some ‘residents’ of SL who aren’t fluent in English.
This even made me want to learn Portuguese too. Several times I’ve been unable to chat with the Brazilians who get in touch, hoping I’m a Portuguese speaker too. Who knows, some of those people might be really nice.
So, now I can add another advantage to being in SL. In a way, it’s a pretty good language school. If this is making you a bit curious, why don’t you drop in? There’s just one thing – you’ll need a quite modern and strong computer. Other than that, it’s not difficult. Besides, if you’re not that good at for instance English, there will most likely be people from your country in world already. Search for groups for people from your country or people speaking your language and join them. From the start, you’ll have some people to talk to.
