The Joy of Social Media.

Social medias. I remember when I had my first encounter with social media, we just didn't know that was what it was. I came across an online chat, by chance, and got in touch with a shy and modest journalist in the USA, with a remarkable sense of telling a story, and a generous attitude towards my petty English.

One of the many exciting and thrilling things about social media is how we connect, how consistently we are in touch with friends, friends' friends, relatives we never met in real life, family and others we may have some sort of relationship with, or have mutual interests with.
We have such a strong bond to these online friends, that we tend to ignore those we talk to face to face once the phone beeps. If polite they say "Right, just a sec, I just have to check my phone". Most often they just don't bother to say, they just disconnect from the conversation to stay instantly updated with their online happenings.

It is common knowledge how protective we get about our social media life, and I know of many employers who would really like to make meetings mobile free zone. They just haven't built up enough courage to announce the demand... as of yet.

Once upon a time people were able to go to bed without their phones and tablets. Those days are long gone. And we complain about not getting enough sleep, while paying attention to the different sounds each notification will make as soon as another sleepless virtual, online friend posts another posting about the agony it causes that he or she just can't sleep.

Communicating with friends and family used to be a time consuming chore.
It is possible to do without social media at hand, but if there is a distance, you can hook up without getting expencive phone bills. Because it's free! At least to create a profile.

And the best part: you can respond or react to whatever approach they make, when it feels convenient.
I mean... come on, family and true friends will always be there, right? There is no reason to put them on the priority list as "Get-Back-To-ASAP!" You get back to them as soon as you have "liked" your neighbor's sister's new purse, which she posted a picture of 3 minutes ago, on snapchat, facebook, instagram, flickr and twitter.

·You can be updated on news in general from papers and other newsagents, but there's no need to cut down a tree to let me read the headlines in 9 different newspapers. There is no need to remember when radio or TV broadcast their news either. I get to see whatever news I like at any time; The latest news from Syriah, or the reality show currently the talk of the town.

You can easily send documents, pictures and video clips to friends…. Classmates even. Always online, and ready to open whatever shortcut to wisdom of life you sent their way. A quote, a picture or a spark to the inherent curiosity we have in people. When we are lucky, we receive a legal reason to spy and gossip. Some times scandals are revealed, other times we get to see happiness and beauty displayed, like only social media can.

Or, you can do what I do: reach out to people writing about your life, your opinions and how you see the world.
The only thing is: These days, writing from your heart, the original text, with your thoughts put into words is probably the most personal thing you can do.
No nude picture leaves you standing there exposed to the same degree as your version of the truth does.

· .

I Happen To Like To Communicate.

I don't, but not always by choice. 
It's like involuntary showing 
mysterious wisdom. 

I am one of those people who constantly feel I have a lot to say, about most topics. I enjoy to be opinionated, I thrive when I get to ponder and wonder about how different standing points could, perhaps, look upon the matter, what their reaction to situations would be like, or how access to resources or different stages of life impose lifestyle. I am one of those people who think I can add something to just about any topic talked about.

I don't really get to air my comments to others much. For some reason I get interrupted a lot, and instead of claiming my space, I tend to withdraw. I speak up because I have this eager thought I would hate to let common sense burn out inside of me for never to be uttered. Only to find my own words just fade out in the buzz of other, louder voices.

As alarming it may sound, and this is totally true: I have not yet, after 28 years, had a proper conversation with my in-laws. That's right; I always end up listening, and then my husband interfere and pretends he is talking for the both of us. Most times he does, because we agree to a large extent, but still; even him.

Then, when I come across people who listen to me, I get so startled I forget every name, event and even word I am about to say. Many times I am left with this bitter taste in my mouth that I didn't get to express what I really meant. It just comes out the wrong, stuttering, insecure way. And leaves my partner in conversation just.... totally confused.

Like... at a Christmas party I told a woman that: "You have been bugging me through this entire holiday!!! You keep popping up as a possible connection, and I must have sent you like 20 invitations on Linkedin."

The poor woman tried to excuse herself, for not having sorted out her Linkedin profile for years, and that she had several profiles... some not active, but she would get it sorted now that her son was at home.

I, on the other hand, sounded like a pathetic idiot, who couldn't take no for an answer. I guess pure luck saved her from adding me. Of course; now that she has sorted out her profiles, she is not accepting me. Not sure I would either.

I would probably be holding a restraining order if we lived in the States, and I wouldn't blame her.

On that note: it is a woman I enjoy being around a lot! really! I just have to figure out how to fix our relationship back to friendly.

Just because of that, blogging is a perfect forum for me. This is where everything I got on my chest can be expressed, with a hint of eloquence, without me feeling muffled or that I say something nobody really cares to listen to. I don't steal anybody's precious time by forcing them to listen to my rambling on.

Here I can talk uninterruptedly knowing whoever reads what I write do so by free will and no obligation, no strings attached... ok, so it has happened I send a link or two to somebody I feel could find some entertainment out of reading what I wrote about this or that. But it is still volunteerly for them to actually read it.

At least they will get the notion I know something about something... if not anything else, I know words.

In spite of having a blog with no other agenda than the one I present above (or below, in this case):

There are so many blogs out there. This is mine. I don't expect it to be particularly good, but it is my life and my thoughts on life and the world as I see it.

Having a blog gives me the opportunity to explore, amuse, challenge, provoke and maybe even look upon values and morals with an unexpected twist.

It is an egotrip where I get to post my own opinions, in my own words, and I get the satisfaction at least I uttered them out there, for anybody to see... if they care to.

That being said. I really don't get a lot of comments or sharing of my blog. As much as I tend to bloom in the spotlight of attention on facebook, the blog has become a different matter. Not everything I write is entirely true: I maybe exaggerate or understate, but there is always a core of some truth. My truth.

Since this is a lot more sincere than my successful facebook-life (mind you, my display of an alleged successful life, in spite of my humble 140+ friends), where likes and clicks and sharing is a huge part of being active, I think I would be intimidated if I got too many comments displayed in public here on my blog. I don't mind them, by all means, I love them! It means I have hit some sort of nerve, and getting them is probably just a matter of getting used to. (Read: Feel free!) Like Chris Brogan once said: “If you accept all the praise, you have to accept all the critics.” And that's fair.

I do enjoy the emails I get from you, and I do try to reply them all. Maybe not right away, but shortly.

I just read through what I just wrote, and I have to say: who am I trying to fool?

Everybody knows that positive feedback is like a drug: you just crave more and more of it, and more often. And after a while you start to get discontent if nobody gets to see what a raging (moderate) success you are.

But then I think to myself: I will never have 50 000 followers on my blog, I will never be a top notch commercial blogger, but I do feel like I get my voice out there. I show how I feel about things, and state my opinions, without being interrupted, and that is still, to me, of the greatest value. (And that is why, when I feel very strong about something, I write it down and send a link, or email, to my husband...)

Because, after all, just like Tom Foremski said: “Blogging is a communications mechanism handed to us by the long tail of the Internet.”
And I happen to like to communicate... just not very good at it live.

Dandelion writing

OK, so I make another attempt. I have started so many texts and given up I am curious if I'll complete this one, and not delete it.

I started writing about RUSS. A long tradition here in Norway, which have now outplayed its role. It used to be senior highschool students who dressed up in red, blue or black suits, drew characters and wrote slogans on them. They had nicknames complimenting their personality and did pranks to get knots in their hats.

The colours on their suits displayed what kind of school they attended, and completed, and they have cars in same colour as their suit, and "businesscards" which they hand out to kids.

These days it has turned into a very expencive, several months long, ongoing party for everybody about the age of 18 (and a little older), who would like to act out and pretend to be above law, order and proper behaviour.

That didn't go very well writing about.

I started writing about the time when our den smelled so bad it was impossible to stay in the room. We tore down the exterior wall, and hundreds of dead mice, decading, tumbled out when we removed the cladding. They had been trapped when the wall was previously fixed.
But then I thought about my friend who wrote about That Smell, and there is no way I can top that.

I took another facebook-test today, what my birthday says about my personality. And it stated: "You are incredible likeable. You are blessed with an amazingly magnetic personality. Other people actually feel pressured and uncomfortable when you are around. You give good advise and are definitely someone who others trust easily".

I somehow found it very contradicting and not very nice, and it wasn't at all fun to write about. Maybe I should stop taking these tests... which I love. They don't really paint a pretty picture of me.

(One even came up with the characteristic: "You are a very demanding woman!")

Maybe I am just tired, maybe what I really need is a muse. I need inspiration... and a vacation.

On the positive side of it all: I have not yet fallen into the compulsive habit of watching funny cat videos on youtube. Then I would have been a tiny bit worried about my sanity.

However, on that note, my friend told me that "my, like his, craziness is not damaging to others. It's more quirky and endearing, and it sets us apart from the general crowd... Sometimes it's lonely, but it's also like being away from just normalness. It would be too common like... when you stop being pleasantly surprised by your own thoughts. I like my thoughts at times; random thoughts that, later, I find amusing and interesting. Sometimes they tumble around in my head. At the end of the day I think we are people who can keep our heads open".

I like to think I have that craziness in me.

Oh, I just remembered: I was journalist and editor of our high school graduation newspaper! Should probably be on my CV, don't you think? Hardly any school's RUSS make those newspapers anymore, but we did. We wrote about the school, what had happened during the past year... a lot of good things, but more bad things and funny pranks, and we presented all the RUSS, which is what we call high school graduates here. and then we sold it to benefit a charity cause. Our was the national cancer assosiation.... long before that was really known, let alone popular.

I probably should add that to my CV.

Maybe I should go out in the garden and weed out dandelions. That should inspire me, I think. You know; the way all great authors are inspired by the grand splendour and wonders of nature, I settle for gloving, fragrant, radiant, vulnerable, hopeful, slender, lively, applicable, legendary dandelions.

On second thought... I'll leave them be.

I'm back!

It’s been a long time since I last wrote on my blog. I guess there are two obvious explanations, on my part, for me not posting anything: Either I make a lot of excuses (well, you probably didn’t miss my texts anyway, so that is rather unnecessary and pointless) or I can pick up posting texts as if nothing happened.

This is a rather transitory forum: There is a LOT of blogs on the net. Most of them has been shut down, abandoned or forgotten about. To many writing a blog, and keeping it up, is rather time-consuming. I would not feel guilty for just leaving this blog behind and never give it another thought. Or so I could probably fool myself into thinking.

Thing is; however bad or silly I might write; when days are busy and flustered with hardly time to inhale properly even once, I get this calm feeling when I let my fingers do the work as they run over the keyboard and type whatever ramble which should happen to run through my mind.

To write has become a valve through which I let me escape from being there for others all the time, and from my name being yelled.

My name is never just spoken as if in a conversation. It is yelled numerous times through the day in different tones of voices, for different reasons, in different degrees of patience...: Sometimes I hate my name. Not because I hate it per se, but most often it is not me, as a person, people call for: they call my name in order to get something from me. Things, money, help, food, attention… the list of reasons why people, very young and older, call my name is close to endless.

I didn’t stop writing all together for this period of time. I finished off the schoolyear reviewing end of term tests, grading exams, preparing for next year, and I just didn’t feel the computer was friendly to me. Strange as it is. My laptop became another demanding element, not human (or my dog, which really knows how to make demands), but nevertheless.

I turned to the old fashioned notebook, writing my thoughts down with a pen. The feeling of the pen running over the page, line by line, creating words in my own personal handwriting was wonderful. It was like finding a long lost friend. I savoured these handwritten pages, with their doodles in the margins, but after I had finished two notebooks, and started on my third, I looked at the notebooks and realized they would become dust collectors taking up space I don’t have. I have stacks of papers I am trying to deliberate myself from already, this was adding to the piles.

It is so much better so save my scribblings where they don't collect dust and only occupy insignificant quantity of space (that sounded very appropriate). So…: I’m back!

Why I Still blog...

When I started out this blog, my initial thought was to learn how to write in English again. I keep telling my students to write, both in Norwegian and English, but I very seldom did so myself. At least not in English. It somehow felt stupid just to file the texts on my laptop, so posting them in a blog seemed like a good idea.

There are thousands and thousands of good blogs on the net, so I thought: I just keep them to myself, not telling anyone, and it will be “my” blog, which no one ever has to waste time or energy on reading.

I was quite surprised when I found out that on occasions random people from around the world stumble upon my blog and find time to read my scribble.

Time passed and I posted more texts, and now I kind of secretly enjoy the thought of people reading what I write. I have no idea what they/you think of it (basically because my postings are never commented upon, apart from a few emails I have received), but still. There is something, a feeling, about it which is very close to the one you feel when you get attention.

I have been thinking a lot about writing lately... mostly my thoughts are about how to make time, and then... later on... what a bummer it is I didn't. The thing is; I think I know by now why I like writing so much: It is like talking to myself, and I get all the right answers; I give pretty sensible answers to questions... when asked, I think. And in my mind I question many things, all the time. (I am very curious by nature. Mostly I am curious about people. Not gossip or talking about them: I like talking to people, listen to what they like to tell about themselves and get an insight in how they think.)

I like writing, it is therapy, as well as something I can evaluate and see progress or decrease in. Sometimes I am just very frustrated, because I see no progress at all. I find typos and strange choices in words… and my headlines are just pathetic at times.

On the other hand; what is writing well and what is progress?

Well…

To me, writing well means, to me, writing in a way which can fully express my thoughts, opinions and feelings on matters I myself need to figure out. A good text allows whoever reads my texts to relate, and perhaps find new arguments and insight in normal challenges I think we all face now and again. Maybe I at times expose myself as a person, but I THINK I have done that without compromising myself too much. After all: I am who I am.

I think anyone who writes, no matter what genre they write, will agree it is impossible to write without doing so, to some extent.

Progress? I am not sure I make any progress in writing English. I found out, at an early stage, that evaluating your my own texts is really hard. But I do notice that I don’t think about what I should have added as often as I did before. But I have no idea if my rambling-ons are understandable; if there is any sense at all to what I type and put “on paper”.

Or… I am not entirely honest here: I have been told my English is fairly ok, and to me that is a HUGE compliment: Makes me want to continue writing.

Maybe starting out writing in English was a stupid idea. It is not my first language so I am writing about my thoughts in a foreign tongue, but if nothing else I am learning new words by doing so.

My only worry is that I by a mistake should insult or offend somebody, but I don’t really think I have, not yet anyway.

Words: about everything and nothing at all.

Sometimes I have so much on my mind, I almost burst with the urge to get it out.

When I need to get something off my chest I instantly think: I need to get this down on paper. Even now, after all these years of typing on my laptop, I think of paper as the primarily source of writing. Don’t really know why; except from my shopping lists, my to do lists, Christmas- and greeting cards, I type everything on my laptop these days.

The thing I do, when I get my head too full of good ideas and opinions, is to write them down.

While writing this it crosses my mind how old fashion I actually am: I still think of writing down as something I do using pen and paper.

I enjoy pen and paper immensely, and yet I hardly ever use them. In spite of my increasingly growing collection of very usable felt-tip pens I never use, but think is cool. I buy them, and they are expensive.

Oh, I clutter down my shopping lists, my to do lists, my greeting cards and my Christmas cards using my handwriting and a vast variety of felt-tip pens.

In spite of how much I love my pens and papers; my overall writing activities happens by my laptop, where I still hover and press each letter on my keyboard.

I would probably do the same thing with my shopping- and to do list…only using my mobile phone, if it wasn’t for me being so terribly poor at remembering to bring my mobile everywhere.

There is this inherent stubbornness in me refusing to be reachable at all times.

My greeting cards and Christmas cards are handwritten only because… well, I myself, enjoy receiving something other than bills and commercials in the mail. And I get to perform some paper-craft at the same time, with a legitimate excuse.

I have never been a good orator, or to express myself orally. At least I think I express myself better in typing. But that might be something I imagine, I don't really know... and I am not sure it is very important all the while I get to let my mind flow freely, which it does when I write.

The other day I got this “look-up-what-animal-you-are” in an email.

I turned out to be a cat, and it told me that a cat:

“If you are a Cat : An extremely lovable, adorable person, sometimes shy, with a passion for quick wit. At times, you prefer quietness. You love exploring various things and going into depth of each thing. Under normal circumstances you're cool but when given a reason to, you are like a volcano waiting to erupt. You're a fashion bird. People look forward to you as an icon associated with fashion. Basically, you mingle along freely but don't like talking much to strangers. People feel very easy in your company. You observe care in choosing your friends”.

Hmmm…. I don’t even like cats, but I have to accept there is a lot of truth in there… like most general “readings” have.

There is something in particular I find to be very true about me, the cat: “Basically, you mingle along freely but don't like talking much to strangers”.

Yeah, I don’t always find the reasons to express my ideas, opinions and thoughts spoken out loud. My words have a tendency of coming out the wrong way.

But when it comes to write down my ideas and thoughts it is a totally different matter; I use the laptop. And these days I lure people, like you, to read about them. Purely because I tend to post (some of) them here.

I sometimes think it might be a stupid thing to do… like now:

My mind was so full of thoughts I confused myself.

And yet… when I took time to sit down and get it all “on paper”, my mind just went…. Blank.

And I ended up writing another posting about absolutely nothing at all. I suppose that nothing at all was what I needed to put on paper tonight.

HEY YOU...

A New Start...

I used to have a blog for quite some time on ICQ. I posted little events from my somewhat chaotic life (both failures and victories... thinking about it: mostly failures) and to me it was pure therapy.

ICQ shut the blogsite down and during the days of no way to pour my misery out in writing, I find myself blabbering at work; forcing my coworkers to listen when I spill the uninteresting beans of my life.

Yes, I have heard of diaries, but what stranger would be rude enough to read, and hopefully relate, to my private sighs? Who could possibly cheer me up with funny and comforting comments then?

To save my working environment from social and professional meltdown I start anew. This is where I will pour out my heart on everyday life and trivial contingencies. If I am lucky; you might just like what you read and leave a comment? Please do, by the way, leave a comment I mean... both good and bad are equally welcome.