Fantasies and Broken Dreams

Some times we have to make difficult choices. Choices we are reluctant to make because they challenge fundamental believes inside of us. They change hopes and dreams. Some times we have to choose between a fantasy and what we can realistically achieve. Fantasies and dreams can come true, but you have to work for them. Someone has to make the first move. And when you hesitate you may lose your chance. The only chance you're ever given.

So we chose.. we choose what is safe. We carefully place one stone onto another as we build our lives here on Earth. We place our stones one next to the other, horizontally. We build houses, little houses of our stones, not big towers standing tall. Not like we used to. We've forgotten our castles in the sky.

It's part of growing up, they say. They don't call it 'losing hope'.They no longer remember their dreams as anything other than fantasies, thought up by an overactive mind in an unrealistic child. It's easier to deal with silly fantasies than broken dreams.

Consensual Devaluation of a Life

In Norway we've had this strange little law for about a year now. It says you're perfectly allowed to sell sex ... but you're not allowed to buy it. This, it has been said, is because it's not the prostitutes one is out to get, but the clients who create a demand and make the sex trade a viable business. A way of life, for some.

Most prostitutes on Norwegian streets are not from here. They're immigrants, refugees from Africa, women from Eastern Europe staying a few months in each country. Norwegians have money, they hear. And the costumers are many. So they come. Hoping to sell the only thing they have on the cold streets of Norway, sending money home to a family in a much poorer land.

Does it do something to you? Selling your body time and time again, giving the men what they want and taking their money. Or is it just another job? Do you feel sad and alone, getting undressed, spreading your legs? Or is it a job you chose because you wanted to?

Easiest OS ever?

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From EngrishFunny.com...................................

Massage Boys

No, I'm not thinking of Thai ladyboys, which might be the first thing that springs to mind.

I'm thinking of the boys that spend their teenage years following pretty girls around, catering to their every need, talking sweetly to them, calling them cutsey names and - you got it - massages them. In class, during seminars, lunch breaks, in line for the bus, gym class - anywhere.

Then they spend the next eight years complaining about how girls see them as friends and not as dangerous, sexy, masculine men.


I hate those guys.
I hate even more those who don't seem to grow out of it, those who keep behaving that way even when they've long since become grown men with jobs, suits and fancy cars. And simply don't understand why puppy dog eyes and complete obedience doesn't make them attractive and sexy.


Sure, sure - people are different and some guys are more feminine than others. Our gym classes painted a fairly nice picture of that the times we got to choose what we wanted to do. After they were done massaging we usually divided into two groups - the girls wanted to play volleyball, the boys wanted to play floor hockey. Inevitably, a couple girls wanted to play hockey with the boys and a couple guys always played volleyball. The massage boys, of course.

Me, I always played hockey with the boys. It's the one thing I miss about high school, getting to run around and actually be fairly good at something in gym. And I didn't really hate seeing how annoyed the boys could get whenever I, a girl, snatched the balls from between their legs (no pun intended).


I won't say I'm not a feminine girl; I love wearing skirts, new makeup - I read the chick lit, love kittens, will squeal if you tickle me , and I hate my hair. But I've never been the "pink all over, unicorns and poetry" kind of girl. So maybe what it all comes down to is... it's just weird seeing guys who act more like a girl than I do. Especially when they themselves don't understand what it is they're doing..

.. and that most girls are looking for a boyfriend, not a little sister.

Layouts

I'm going to try and change to Blogger layouts. Again.
I'll probably end up hating it and switching back. Again.

This is gonna be a bumpy ride.

I really should learn something, anything, about html codes, it would make everything so much easier...

Earthquakes: Baby, I could feel the earth move!

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You know how people are in bed having the time of time their life, and after they exclaim they could actually feel the earth move? No? I'm sure you've seen it in a movie some time.
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If you were in bed on Saturday when the earthquake in Chile hit, you may actually have felt the earth move. More than it usually does. Which is thousands and thousands of miles a day. And you don't have to be in bed to feel it. But that's beside the point.

According to NASA scientists;

“The length of the day should have gotten shorter by 1.26 microseconds (millionths of a second). “The axis about which the Earth’s mass is balanced should have moved by 2.7 milliarcseconds (about 8 centimeters or 3 inches).”

According to VG this simply means the earth is now spinning faster than it used to. When earthquakes of this magnitude hit, they change the distribution of the mass on earth, which changes the speed at which it rotates. So the continents move, and the earth itself spins faster as a result of it.

An earthquake in Asia in 2004 brought on even bigger changes which shortened the day by 6.8 microseconds. No reason for concern though - we'd need more than 100.000 of these huge earthquakes to see a change of one second in the earth's rotation. Still, it is quite fascinating.


Can you feel the earth move?

Technology Schmechnology

I think some of the cell phone providers around are having issues..

It takes three days to send an mms from Bergen to here.
It takes six days for a text to reach me from Ireland.

I sent a reply to that one, I expect that one will arrive next Monday and I'll have the answer in around 12 days.


Oh this technology... can't live with it, refuse to live without it for more than a couple days at a time..