Should old acquintance be forgot and never brought to mind?

Rule: You make friends during the years but you do not keep in contact with them all the time
Exception: Thank you Internet for making it possible to keep in touch!

Once upon a time friends were people you shared something with: you lived close, you were family, you were working togeteher, you shared the same hobby or you regularly visited and kept the friendship going.

And, of course, if you moved, stopped going to that specific work place or doing that specific hobby - you lost your friends.

Some of them you heard from once a year when the Christmas cards arrived.

But then, Christmas cards grew out of fashion and there was silence.

Till now. Facebook, Multiply, Blogs (like this one), NetLog, StayFriends - and good old e-mail and text and chatt - they all help you to keep your friends.

Yesterday I mailed two old schoolfriends and was reminded that next year it is 30 years since we left school. I have met them once since then, 20 years ago... And now, thanks to Stayfriends I have met them again. One of them lives in the same town as I do!

I can also keep in touch with my Estonian friends and due to the fact that they share their pictures online I can see their children and grandchildren grow up.

Thanks to Skype I can make longer longer calls and thanks to e-mail I can send pictures and messages that will reach people immediately.

But, as my teacher said the other day: When did I get a hand written letter last time?

I think I can answer - when my dear old friend Ester encouraged us during our stay in Ireland. Ester was a firm believer of the post office and sent letters every week to family and friends.

So, keeping in touch is easier, so easy maybe that we forget the special thing about receiving a handwritten letter.

And exactly how good is your English?

Rule: A native is always worth more than a non-native
Exception: When the non-native has made a bigger effort...

My grammar teacher at University tried to learn us Swedish students all about Swedish grammar. He was Dutch himself but had studied Swedish grammar (why?).
My creative writing teacher at University tried to teach us Swedish syntax and expressions. She was Lithuanian.
And, my rethoric teacher...was Austrian.

Earlier I had a fantastic Spanish teacher, who was Finnish...

And here I am working with English and Swedish. I am a Swedish native but my four years in Ireland, my three more years commuting to Ireland for work and my four years at University studying English does sometimes not count. I was at a business dinner where the man next to me explained how he got this nice English chap to translate his web site. The English chap was neither a translator, nor an editor - he was simply an English native and therefore he could write in English. of course.

Sarcastic? Cynic? Oscar Wilde-quote-temptated?

When I worked as a journalist I always met people who "also loved to write" and also "did a spot of writing" somewhere. It was hard to explain that my training actually made a difference. It is the same with languages.

But as Russian friend of mine found out...sometimes it is true that natives, even lousy-speaking such, are better. She was once complaining about her husband's bad Swedish and explaining that she spoke better English than he. If she hadn't made quite as many language errors in that short speech it would have been better. Much better. There isn't a Swedish native who speaks the way she did. You simply cannot make as many errors as a native speaker (but you can make other!).

And I may have my four years at uni but do I beat Elizabeth at Scrambles in English?

I think not.

Sunday, sunday

Rule: Children do not enjoy Sunday the way adults do
Exception: Very wise children...

I know that Sunday is only hours away from Monday and yet another week of boring work. I know that, and still Sunday is for me a day of rest and comfort. A day of reassurance that life is good and that I am precious. That this day, indeed, is precious.

As a child I mostly found Sundays boring. Now I treasure them, the only decent day in the week. No need to work, no must to work. If I do some work I do it because I want to. I can be as lazy as I want to. I can order food instead of cooking. I can read. Go for walks. Pet my cats.

And...update my blog...

Missing Elizabeth...

Rule: Someone you are in close contact with you tend to take for granted
Exception: When something happens and there is silence

I haven been spoild rotten by having my constant contender on Facebook. With Elizabeth I have tested most text-games on Facebook and enjoyed being beaten in all.

And now - silence. She is doing something else.

Sigh.
Sigh.
Sigh.

Updating the blogg

Rule: When happy - the entries flood in
Exception: No exceptions - when sad...so impossible to write because of all the things you cannot say

I wish sometimes that you could go back in time and prevent bad things from happening. But you can´t. So you have to sit here, stunned by the worst news possible. Seeing images in your mind. And no stopping them.

I am appaled by how cruel adults can be towards children. And the worst part is when they start to defend themselves, putting part of the blame on the kids.

The anger I have felt scared me, but I also know that I cannot carry this anger for long. I choose, instead of bitterness and something in my life being destroyed, to act. I have put up fences and made rules and that is how I prevent this cruel, sick man from ever coming close to any children I am responsible for.

He needs help. But will he understand how sick he is? Will he understand what he has done? Will he stop?

How can you live with yourself?

When rage is constructive

Rule: Rage makes you behave irrational - and often stupid
Exception: When rage makes you act (better late than never)

I have been betrayed and not only I, but several others. After being passive for too long, far too long, I found that it was time to act and the rage that came over me suprised me. I am usually quite afraid of confrontations - that is one good thing about being brought up in a constantly quarelling family.

However, when I should act I am sometimes afraid to take action. People around me judge me from my actions and my passivitiy give off the wrong signals. As if I did not care. As if it did not hurt. As if it is nothing to care about.

This time I feel like a shepherd who has mistakenly allowed a wolf in sheep-skin access to the lambs. I feel like I am ready to slay. No-one will mistake me for accepting that kind of behaviour. I feel like climbing up on the highest mountain and shout it out.

Passivity is as bad as a quarelling spirit.