Facebook Valentine

I realise its Valentines day, but believe me there will be no ranting. I am not a huge believer and I am not a ‘this is a hallmark holiday’ town crier either. If you are with someone its nice, its nice to receive flowers etc, but this shouldn’t be reserved to only this day of the year. That’s it, mini attempt at a rant over.

Today I am mostly being the facebook superuser for the Yas Rock Factory and realizing just how powerful Facebook is, and also how terrifyingly at home I am with it. Everyone who knows me laughs at my status updates, and the frequency of my use of facebook. I see it as another outlet for me. I am regularly the girl who is stood up in a restaurant acting out a recent funny story for my group of friends. I am the one who cares not about the stares of others, the one who doesn’t care how loud she is, or where she is. In the name of being social, funny and 9 times out of 10 the centre of attention. So to give an exhibitionist who loves to perform a platform such as facebook is just asking for me to have billions of photos, and a million updates a day. I like to share, I talk frequently and am rarely quiet, why you would expect anything less from my facebook persona is odd. If nothing else Facebook is going to allow me to be even more of myself, which could be a little much, if not far too much at times. That’s the thing isnt it, its choice, I choose to read your statuses, I also choose to hide some of you, the reasons I hide you are my own. What you do on Facebook is up to you, I have no place to comment, I have more than enough ability to do something about it rather than wine or moan or make a big deal out of it.

Thats about the long and short of it today, got nothing much more for you than that :)

Who lit the Grail shaped beacon ?

It seems I write best, and most prolifically when I need to rant, vent or stop myself from being arrested for verbal abuse that borders on the physical. This is going to have to be part of the resolution as well, to push myself to write on topics that don’t require my sheer contempt. It has been an interesting week, the pitfalls of working in another country have been once again highlighted to me by the predicament of a friend. The sheer helplessness of being in the hands of other people, and having to rely on others for help and support can be a frightening thing. Especially in this country where an attitude of ‘its not my job’ prevails. That has always been something that I have tried and failed to understand. I could quite happily wax lyrical about the type of person who utters those sentences, however today will not turn into a rant. Safe to say though that the old adage of treat people as you would wish to be treat is a a good rule to live by, because to get very clichéd karma is an unforgiving bitch and will come back to haunt you. Good karma is something you should try and store up. That all sounds a bit preachy, I can be as vile as you like, a great expression I will steal that made me laugh the other day was, ‘ are the still treating you like Lord Voldermorts Niece?’ which sadly the answer had to be yes.

I have also begun the painful business of venturing into the world of renting a villa, I am desperate to rid myself of my 2 hour return trip home on an evening. When you have had a long day and all you can think about is your sofa and a glass of wine, the drive gets ever longer. Its actually not the driving, it’s the lack of driving, the sitting, and inching forwards and wondering what fool has tipped his car in order to keep me from my wine. I realize I am now starting to sound like an alcoholic. So the few things I have learned this week about villa hunting. Real Estate agents are liars, my apartment is an utter gem of a place and I want to move it 10 kilometeres up the road. I cant live in a generic apartment block for fear of killing myself due to averagitis.

That’s not a word I hear you say. To me it is, and also possibly to the mad Italian who I work with.  It is something I have been terrified of my whole life, its what makes me strive to do what I do with my career. Being average. This is what has made me change my hair repeatedly over the years, adding colours, and stripes and even chopping it off, in order to avoid being ‘the same’. Thanks to my Mum I have always been happy to be ‘different’. Not in a special person type of way, although there is an argument for that too. So to live in a generic block of flats would take the person inside of me who has to be unlike everyone else and annoy her til she exploded. So I will not be living in a generic shoe box, I will continue to hunt until I find the quirky house I need.

In the meantime I will continue to shout at traffic and impatiently tap the wheel of my car in my daily quest to beat the traffic home to my wine.