Bridget Jones Diary

watching the first one. Had forgotten how fun it is. How great the actors are, and how young Colin Firth is. OK I loved Colin already in Another Country, and Hugh Grant in Maurice. I remember deciding wich VHS to buy on a schooltrip to London, on some 19 years ago. Should I buy Another country with Rupert Everett or Life of Brian. Hm...... I now feeling like a pedofile realise that Life of Brian would have been a better choice. Colin..... I loved you at 22 but somehow it is good my VHS recorder stopped working.

Anyway.....maybe I should try to get hold of Bridget Jones Diary, one.

I am no Hero

and I'll never will be.

I sort of find the talk of heroes more and more overrated, in sports, in war, in other aspects. But I love fantasy movies and epic war stories. I want to believe there are heroes like Aragon. Sadly, age and life leaves me less and less convinced.

Idon't know what the dictionnary says. But here are some thoughts. A hero, or heroic actions is doing something for others at a severe cost on your own account. A hero is somebody who takes lemons and makes lemonade. A hero is somebody who is changing from victim to responsible.

I watched "Farewell Bafana" about the prisonguard of Mandela. Hm, actually I thought Mandela was a hero, I am not sure after watching the movie. Is it heroic to use violence. In what way was he more heroic than those people who suffered apartheid from day to day on the streets, white, black or asian. Sometimes I think we mix up heroes and leaders. That he was a great human being and a great leader no doubt. But hero?

And the prisonguard, so human, he did "send" according to the movie several people to certain death by forwarding information, but at the same time he sought his own way within the system and treated the prisoners whith respect. He showed that you can choose, that "I was only obeing orders" is a myth. Was he a hero. No, but heroic in many ways. He made a stand when many didn't.

I saw the movie "Kingdom of Heaven", all these battles, fighting, for land, wealth, people and war it self. Truly heroes. Or? It impress me, mesmerizes me, and still leaves me oddly uncomfortable. More and more, the heroic acts seem to me to be the ones that spared life rather then took taking them.

Last night there was a documentary about french jewish children during the seccond world war. Tragic, but important. I always thought french wasn't much for resistance. But this documentary was a story not only about tragedies and lost families but also about small and great heroic acts.
About ordinary french families who took in children in their homes, some families not very nive though. It is easy to loose faith in life and humans. That's why we need those stories. Sad or hopeful. A boy had been sent away on summer camp, his father heartsick bicycled to the camp, gave the boy the most valuable item they owned, told him to stay away or something and left. What does it take to do that? Isn't that heroic. The mother and father was taken away. The boy was hid by the manager of the camp, she managed to send him away in hiding.

There was a whole village led by a young I think schoolteacher who hid several children and teenagers. Heroes? The schoolteacher was arrested.

A jewish woman who smuggeled children.

A headmistress and schoolteachers who hid their jewish pupils.

To me that is heroic.

There's a television program in Sweden awarding "everyday hero's". A bit maudling, but important. Things like fighting for rights of women, helping somebody who is attacked by violence.

Maybe heroic acts should include, being a single parent trying to do your best for your children, taking care of a demented spouse, standing up to a bully in school, enduring a horrible medical treament, hiding a refuge. It is easy to search for heroes in movies and history, but what about now. Do we have the courage to truly question what happens or the courage to help somebody in trouble. Don't know.

I don't know if I Believe in heroes anymore, but I do believe in heroic actions.

Worse then ever, almost

Haven't had such an ugly "hem bleed ass" since I was 22 and didn't have time to take toilet breaks. Well, It has been bad for a week since the latest spell of diarrohea. Ahhh got the advice, since I've done all tests for the time being, to use ointment. Yeas, and a possible sideeffect is bleeding. Hm, explain that. So I haven't taken the ointment, but my ass doesn't heal so I suppose I have to.

Any way. Concerned but not panicing exept for toilet visits. Please ASS HEAL. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE.

I DON*T want to have it. Anyway, periods finally arrived so There will be blood, ha ha.
Wonder when I'll get the coloscopy, and where. Four possible hospitals.

fuck shit anxiety

Shit busted my a rear end or whatever you call it. It hurt, is sore and there was blood. NOT A H again. Part of me thinks, it's because of upset stomach, and upset stomach is because of stress. Then I read about carcinoma or something that gives those symptoms that I have. HOPEFULLY work will be calmer and my, knock on wood, stomach as well. Anyway, got letter from doctor, they found nothing and are now putting me on waiting list for coloscopy.

AHHHHH so what can I do but wait and pray.

Wish me luck. Good night. Anyway, thank god I did good at work to night. Great author.

Book thief Markus Zusak

Can't decide. Good, not so good or a feelgood novel, for grownups or young adults? Don't know still, liked it.

A story about second world war, love, resistance and thieves. Told by death himself. Lots of smiles, lots of tears. And it makes you fall in love with books and reading again. I liked it. But I think I will forget it fast. It is like a great story but not with the true magic. I liked the books in the book, and its flow. Because there must be a lightness in telling since all those pages just flies by.

And there can never be told too many stories about evil and Good in people. And the images. I like books which turn into movies in my head and this one did. I can probably re tell the story almost completely, not because of words but because of my images.

Doing Terry

Did a Terry went to movie quiz despite a threatening diarrhoea. (Can never learn to spell that can I.) Joined a fabulous team. AND WE WON. Specially happy about two free movie tickets. YEAH. And lo and behold, stomach sort of went into background when the competing endorphins took over.

Dear God help me work tomorrow, going to work for ten hours or something.
Dear God help me to remember filling in my sick leave. Dear God help me with my economy.

SHIT. Shit, shit, shit. I am lousy at managing my money, add that to list of worrying problems. And well the money or lack of them is all my fault. All my managing mistakes. Shit. I have no one to blame. I have not grown up until I can manage my own economy.

Fuck.

OOps it is pay back time

I have been worrying about being an ass to my parents for about 30 years. WELL, I shouldn't have. I should have realised no man is an island and we all have to pay our debts one way or another.

How can I persuade my parents to buy new clothes that are not torn, or scruffy. How can I persuade them to, just maybe, get some professional home care help.

Well borrowed the movie The Savages from library. Ha, I just know I will like this movie about adults who act as if they are still children an then are forced to grow up much to late due to aging parents. And I know it also because I have not not liked any movie with Laura Linney or Philip Seymoure Hoffman. It is so GOOD. And well, I suppose it strikes a cord with me right now.

Doing Terry

Have been doing Terry for a week. Stomach died after two days, bounced back for two days and now into my sixth day of work my stomach is turning a bit bloated and odd. Have treated it like shit today. AHHHHHHH had hoped for a perfect day. But cramps again.

And it is paybacktime

Stomach crap AGAIN. Might be that the connection doctor and therapist suggest between stress and stomach, is true....... Haven't had D in two weeks, now in to my third working day, my stomach broke down with d twice, and it is still not well. Pain, soreness, and I will try to eat some rice. SHIT. Is the word. I did as therapist suggested, stayed at work anyway. But I will have to learn to 1. do the right things at work 2. work with my week spots, like planning and managing development in my "areas", which is "kindergarten"/preschool, and special needs. 3. Have too relax a bit. 4, Stop panicking. 5. accept that I am not always good at work. 6. Learn some realxation technique.

I didn't even feel stressed out to day, well, almost not, and my stomach just died. SHIT.

Still alive

OK, was half dead this morning and midday. AND then I must have moved into a new dimension or stress level, because then I just kept going. Have talked to everybody about my stomach and depression. Not very professionally. Had an information evening, turned out I was one of the least informed. Well.... have to work on that. I also forgot to turn a computer off, I hope the library doesn't burn down. I will just keep on going tomorrow as well. I think I remember what worries me. To do a great job. I worry that I am not good enough. That I don't do my work properly, that I think and then nothing happens. I'll have to work on that.

Anxiety, so many things I haven't been doing. Have to deal with it one thing at a time. Tomorrow........tomorrow..... bus, then booktalk. It must be reality that bothers me. I am just not good enough.

Anyway, read an article about the movie The diving bell and the butterfly, where Monsieur Baubys friends protested on certain things, like the picture of his "mother to his children" and his love, who in the movie never visits apparently she did that all the time in real life. Well, that changes a lot. Anyway, good movie but apparently not entirely true.

Paying, not much but paying. And therapy.

Can't believe I am THIS TIRED. If I don't have any serious illness like cancer or liver failure I'll be surprised. Headache, hot flashes, tired. (hypertension?) ANYWAY. Enough of that. Glad I managed to work. Hope I will manage tomorrow as well.

Discovered heaps of undone things and messages not taken care of on my desk.AHHHHH I have created a life where I can't retire to my bed for weeks without bad consequences.

Was at therapy to day. Felt awkward and distant. I used to go regularly and she help me grow up , live independently, work and so on. But now it is sort of the next level, which is probably like 18 years later than everybody else. Defining me. Living with all of me. And accept reality as it is. Hm, sounds easy to most people I assume. But remember when all of you out there did THAT between 15 and 20, I sort wandered in a state of constant depression and confusion.

It feels as if I am being born, or standing on a threshold. It hurts and I don't want to push further, or bring out the last pieces of me inside. I frightens me. I frighten me. Not that I would turn into a Dexter or something, but when I let myself out there will be no more being the victim, all people might not like the person I am, there will certainly not be any reassurances.
But there is no going back either. I tried that, but I have already come to far. The life I have created for myself has no place for the person I used to retire to. Too much responsibilities, too good friends who refuse to let me slip away, and too many dreams and wishes that I have dreamt for myself. There is no going back. So why does it hurt so much.

Still waiting for the bill

Did go to church, did go to moving in party. Didn't stay long. But it was 5 hours altogether, didn't feel worse. THANK GOD. I can't imagining myself work next week. I feel disoriented. I feel as if I am not on top of thing. I feel muddleheaded and has no memory or trust in myself. Odd. I haven't taken temperature or recorded anxiety symptoms for two days. I haven't felt better but not worse either. My stomach is still a bit funny. Ate some things I shouldn't have yesterday.

I am afraid, because in a way it was better to be panicstricken and having lost it all. When I was so depressed and terrified of cancer a week ago I had nothing to loose. As soon as I get my hopes up and starts to want things again, like yesterday, then I start to worry, because suddenly I have things to loose again. My body, my mind, my dreams, my wishes, my friends.

We talked about alot of things yesterday, some had seen the movie Into the wild, and they all agreed that being by oneself doesn't make you happy. Funny I always thought it did.

I spent so many years trying to develop a core, a me, spent so many years trying to grow up and rely on myself, I now feel somewhat tricked. I have always used people, my parents, and others. My parents and I struggled for my independence pulling in different directions all the time. Finally almost into middel age, I feel truly grown up, only to realise I still can't function completely on my. I still need help, I want to be alone, and yet I don't. Being with others stress me, I need solace, I need space for body and mind and spirit. Still.

Did my parents use to have a lot of friends before I arrived. Were they social human beings. Maybe, but I bring a sense of isolation from my childhood and youth. Why? Parts of me wants to stay in this sofa, alone, for ever. Parts of me doesn't want to be involved because it is such a hard time. An still.

It all comes down to old Donne, no man is an island. No man is an island. I wanted to be all I needed. I am not. And being the best I can is often when with others. I told my best friend I didn't want to bother her or be a burden, she said, it is not a question of being a burden or not, the next time I need you, you'll be there for me. Let's take turns.

I'll try to remember that. I will also remember that people probably doesn't want to be burdens, they want to be providers off and on. For example I was at a seminar about healing. One guy was obviously very ill and disabled SO, everybody sort of assumed he was there to be healed. Shamefully I thought that as well. Thank you God who often seem to fuck up my prejudices. The man was there because he wanted to learn more about praying for sick people, as did most of the other participants. He ended up in the group I was in, and well he prayed for me and another woman.

So please pray that my brain isn't going BOHOOO or something on me. And that I WILL WORK next week.

Now I will listen to Tom Waits.

Did a Terry will there be a price to pay

Carried old cupboard, in pieces down three stairs, friend picked me up in car, throwed it away, went grocery shopping, is supposed to be at The Salvation Army in an hour and a half. AHHHHHH stressed out. Probably a temperature, stomach feeling funny. DIARRHOEA on it's way? Friends want me to come buy for a moving in party......AAAAAA is afraid wants to stay at home in my sofa.

All my life I have wanted a life like this. I never had a lot of friends, never worked or studied good enough, never lived in a nice apartment, always felt alone left in the world. (Though my parents and some friends always stood by me.) AND NOW WHAT. I have been fighting for 8 years to get this far, AND I CAN'T TAKE IT. I feel crazier than in a long time, sicker than in a long time and I haven't been able to work properly for a month. I am week physically and paralyzed mentally. I want to tell my friends to get off my back, stop intervene.

They want me to say something at church today, I love that. My ego loves that. AND NOW ALL I AM THINKING OF IF WHAT IF I HAVE TO GO TO THE TOILET. OR STOP TELLING ME I AM A GOOD NICE PERSON AND THAT YOU LOVE ME: I want to be loved, and hugged, but when people do I want to tell them, Oh you don't really know me. If you did, you wouldn't be hugging me. Maybe I'll just pop up and say, hey I am a depressed, bisexual, nagging ever doubting sort of christian. NICE, don't think so.

Anyway, the fewer post you see this weekend, the better. I hope that means I do Terry's. It could mean I am in the bathroom.

Looking for Terrys

I just erased a complete post by pressing the wrong button, what!

Anyway, I just watched "The Diving Bell and the Butterfly". It was on our "community" cinema a couple of months ago. I didn't go, in case I would believe I'd get Locked in Syndrome. (I know!!!!!) Glad I did watch it today. He really did a Terry! I remember trying to read the book, but though being a librarian, movies speak more to me than novels.

Horrible, disgusting, awful situation and he did what he could do, and did it great. Students still ask for the book at the library. I don't know why Bauby wrote the book, but he is still a teacher to students studying to become nursers, by leaving his testimony.

About the movie, made me want to go out and dance to french chansons and listen to Leonard Cohen more than it frightened me. About Bauby, he wasn't a completely nice guy was he? He didn't have much belief in Christianity did he? Well, as for the Christians in the movie luring him to church and not respecting his non religion opinion. Not very nice!

As for men. DO YOU ALWAYS THINK OF SEX. (As if I don't, see previous post, commenting on Terry.) And oh, suddenly all women in Baubys life were BLONDE. ?.?. Anyway, great acting. How is it possible to make a movie like this with a not altogether sympathetic main character and a terrible story that could get really sentimental. It has it's crying moments but never gets soppy. It is fun, and warm, and sexy. OOps, the actor as Bauby in the back flashes of his life. Ohhhh. Sorry. Shouldn't have said anything about the blondes.

I also got a bonus from the movie. I remembered why I used to read. Somewhere along the line of librarianship books became work, and children's books a way for children to improve their reading, nothing more. I sort of forgot that we read to escape, to learn, to get smarter and to know other human beings. The movie almost made me want to read The Comte de MonteChristo. I say almost because my reading pace is so slow I would never get to chapter 59 in this life. Imagining being locked in like Bauby and not having memories and stories to fall back on. So I better go out doing a Terry and get some memories, and I better read some really good books, not just entertainment.

I hope Monsieur Bauby is in heaven even if he didn't seem to be believing in it. If he his I would tell him "Eat lot's of oysters, pimp up the white robes, but stay away from those innocent beauties up there". But on the other hand I probably would have nothing at all to teach Monsieur B, he is probably having the time of his life already. (Stay AWAY from those heavenly creatures.)

Still on vacation still posting- trying to convince me

To accept life and looking to others for inspiration.
I can't imagining working next week. Jesus I can barely get through the day or write a post without fucking up. Jesus, and I mean that as a call for help and well....

Step one, bought two books by Philip Yance, one of the few contemporary christian authors that I can relate to. I mean really, this teaching about you can get what you want if you pray. I wanted happiness, a calm life when becoming a christian. I thanked God for every success. I believe he looks after his own, BUT, there is a big BUT. If God looks out for us, why does shit happen to Good people. Because we are obsessed, sinful, not praying in the right way and so on. This way of thinking does eventually sort of leave me stranded. I have never understood the teachings that Jesus is ever kind, nice as in Sunday school. I have never quite felt at home with well bread Christians in nice clothes and their happy shining faces. (Forgive me.) I always related more to ex. addicts, to people in the old testament yelling at God, or the gospels song that cries in despair but with hope.

Thank you Philip. Thank you for not giving easy answers. Thank you for showing me the old thinkers. And it all comes down to "we live in a fallen world, God can heal, God can give strength, but not always the way we want." (or something, sorry Philip.) BUT HEY I HATE TO ACCEPT THAT. Hey.....Yance shows that faith, love, and fellow people can be healing and meaningful. SO! I wanted happiness and have fun all the time. Is the fucking answer "This is it, take it and make the best you can." It creeps upon me that that's the answer because that's the best we humans can do. FUCK. Is that what God and life is leaving us with. And heaven of course. And comfort when in pain, and company, and strength but they way God wants. I can't live without God but it is sometimes hard to get it. Forgive me God.

I am 38 and realising intellectually, not accepting emotionally that this fucking cliché is what we are left with. "When life hands you lemons, make lemonade." (And pray and trust in the Lord, and look to others....)

I think I will steel an insight from blogger Screw Bronze where http://elizabethmcclung.blogspot.com/2008/09/terry-fox-runwalkwheel-i-am-survivor.html
she writes about what it means to be a survivor. I sort of adapts her idéa to my mind and I will think "Oh, I'll think I'll do a Terry." Meaning, the same as making lemonade.

By the way, God, such a pity waisting such a handsome young man in cancer. (Sorry God, it is not as we humans seems to destroy young men in wars all the time.)(Sorry.)

So, conclusions on this post. I intend to do a Terry. And pray that my decision survives the next anxiety attack or nosebleed.

Finally I hope that there are great swimming pools and good sneakers in heaven for Terry. And congrats to all the girls up there.

Medication praise- and worries

OK, It just can't be true. My body is disturbed but now my mind is fucked up as well. I love my pills, but have they stopped working? Have the side effects overshadowed their benefits. I am into my sixth year on Sertraline/serotonin/SSRI.

I am experiencing confusion, anxiety, fatigue. Hm, why. Because this is a deep depression fit? Starting to have memory problems. Panic. Why? I am trying to lower the dose but I am only into the third day so that shouldn't be it. What is wrong with my life?

Will probably stop lowering the dose until I am out of the darkness.

Hm....I was going to write a critical post on medication but I don't know.

I love this medication. I just don't understand people who called it "happypills" it is not. Some people claim that SSRI made them feel less and made them feel detached from life. I believe them. Since my sensations got less. I believe them since my emotions stopped fluctuating.

But for my part that made me "normal". It gave me access to deeper emotions. It has side effects. I believe every medication has. I believe only God can heal without a price to pay.
When it comes to this medication I think it is sometimes given too lightly. One shouldn't get it for grief, for a crisis, for being a little worn out. They are not magic pills. I have heard people got them prescripted when being in grief and then having a hard time getting off them. That is like crazy, or old people who get them, when the elderly people might be better off ( in my opinion) with more social contacts and better care from society and family. You don't get addicted but your body reacts with abstinence when going off them, more or less. And I believe in a "psychological addiction" meaning they make me feel safe and I wonder and worries what will happen without them

They are not magical candy. The pills are potent and therefore not harmless. I worry about side effects and the price I might have to pay. But for me, it was a way to be alive. It hurts me that cutting down the dose seems to fail. But I will try again.

So back to the dose. Back to see if (oh yes here we go) it's Alzheimer's, brain tumour or the same old depression paying a visit.

Darkness and back again

Maybe I write this because I feel like I have to tell you about one of my real illnesses. Is it depression, anxiety you name it? People wonder why I don’t drink. People think I am positive but a bit neurotic and a total hypochondriac. People wonder why I am happy I am not homeless on the street. I tell you why, because the edge is ever near. Because there’s a thin line between me and the bag lady.
It’s in my genes. On both sides. A touch of narcissism, a blend of sensitivity and fragility mixed with selfishness and dreams. A weakness. I hate it. But it has made me who I am. Take those genes and let me be raised by a mother with similar disposition.
I had a “heart attack” when I was five, I cried until I could get my will, I behaved selfishly and got bullied because of it. I had every possible disease I could imagine. Why? I don’t know. I always felt like an outcast I never quite got it. My parents told me to be more organized, calmer, less sensitive. It didn’t work.
On the edge of becoming an adult I went into darkness. I got week, dizzy. All I did was lying in my bed while my parents desperately tried to help me. I ate too much, slept too much. Stopped caring about everything. I got panic. The only safe haven was my bed and my sleep. I didn’t have a core. Every noise, every touch, every sensation invaded my brain and threatened to destroy me. My sense of time disappeared. Strong audio stimulation stuck to my brain. I remember listening to Mozarts requiem, when I turned the record off I could still hear the choirs in my head. I watched the paintings on the walls and they winked at me. Fuzzyness, dizziness, feeling of wanting to run, run and never stop. And yet so tired. No borders between me and my limbs. Heart throbbing, the only things I could know was my bodily sensations. I don’t drink because being drunk feels like being my kind of crazy. I would never ever do anything to make me feel like that again.

I slipped out of madness. Then fell back again, and again, and again. Hurting my parents and friends. I could never trust myself. Not really.
Then a miracle, that made therapy possible. I have read a lot about, Prozac, sertraline, and not all good things. But for me it has been, I am not sure it still is. Sertralin affecting my serotonine levels. After a month on that medication, I had boundaries. I had a core. I stopped having panicattacks. I could be organized. I got smarter. I can’t explain what happened. The medication made it possible for me to get a life.
I have hope again. But I still got mental problems, or issues, or what you choose to call them. The doctors asked if I will increase the dose. I am not sure. This anxiety is not the panicattackone, it is not about depression. This is something else. This is about facing life and grabbing it with both hands. This is about choosing to live and not running away.

More about medication on another post.

End of the world

Writing this post offline. It is the second of October, that doesn’t sound right. And there is thunder and lightning outside. The lamp just flickered and my computer is running on battery. A couple of minutes ago the stars were shining but there were thunderbolts in the distance and a fog whirling up from below. I talked to a friend, we said, is this the end of the world. She wanted to go to sleep if it was. I wanted to stay awake and feel relieved that I can’t both die from cancer, illness and world destruction. I started to watch Fringe, but it never hooked my interest. Sort of glad I had to turn my TV off. The end of the world. Funny, how small and insignificant it makes us feel. I believe I will go to heaven when that happens, it’s the suffering before extinction that worries me. It has stopped. I will go online.

My mind- my best friend an worst enemy

This post might be offensive.

Let's say I have cancer. My first inclination is that I just would give up. Take the hint, die. My second is, I rather not be too happy because I will be disappointed. Third, if I am happy when dying doesn't that make me completely stupid?

The major me says this is completely sane. A tiny part of me says, well that's because you can't face life. That's because you have a fucked up mind. Another tiny part of my mind say, yes, the above might be true but it really doesn't work.

I have spent two days writing down all my fears, anxiety, symptoms, I have put down my blood sugar and bodily temperature. This might sound stupid but I needed to do it to figure out how to deal with this. The thing is, the worrying and catastrophe thoughts didn't make a difference. Things did happen and didn't happen nevertheless. The only thing that really happened was that I got completely fed up with my own mind. It doesn't work. The facts of life doesn't change even if I worry or get reassurance. I don't want to accept life as it is. How do I do that.

Second. I worry about managing. About enduring. I worry so much. My mind is fucked up here as well. Things has happened to me, and I know I have a strong sense for "detect danger and escape" I have as strong survival instinct when things happen. I have a strong "Staying with others helping out" when things happen. I also strongly believe that I can detect people who are trustworthy and will be able to help me. I have dealt with those emergency situations and I am proud of that. I believe in me, my body and mind to survive.

But, my mind is fucked up. I can survive but not cope. When I endure longtime stress, I fall apart. If I am told to wait, or to endure I can basically make myself ill. Like now, when I have to WAIT and see. I imagine that I would survive an accident but freak out during recovery or rehabilitation. I imagine myself shouting and fighting to get the best care and then sort of slip into depression because I can't face the facts. I can feel my jaw clench as I write this.

Twilight- alternative

Oh, I forgot this book I read, bought the first one for the kids who liked Stephanie Meyers.

I think this series is better written, it has got better languages. When you read it it is like you're there in this mysterious environment. Then, well it is a mischmasch of Victorian life, magic, gypsies and dangerous men and of course an all girl school.

But, I buy it. I haven't taken the time to read book number two. But I would if I was 15.

It is A great and terrible Beauty by Libba Bray. (I think that's the first one, but please check her site to be sure: http://www.libbabray.com/)

If you read Meyers, read Bray. And when you have read Bray, go and check out her books she read as a child/teenager.

Hypochondriac 2

Not offended but triggered. How dare anybody imply I have cancer:) But of course that can be true. It really could. People tend to ask me. But you have tried to convince us you are sick, and now when we are telling you you get angry. OF COURSE because I want reassurance I am not ill. I want reassurance.

And there can never be one can there. I feel really tired now. Going to shop for food. There will be no more writing about diseases here. Imagined or real ones. Except maybe my hormones and depressions. My other physical diseases and troubles are to painful for me to write about. I can't accept them yet so.........I'll keep them to myself. Writing about them will only, thank you for the word Elizabeth, trigger me into worse thoughts and anxiety.

Mail arrived, waiting for two books by Philip Yancey.

Twelwe again- Stephanie Meyer

There has been some debate in a national paper about The Twilight series by Stephanie Meyer.
One of the articles stated that it's understandable that twelve year old girls like them but crazy that adult, and adult librarians and teachers love them. It stated that the novels are not very well written and has a moral like "NO SEX BEFORE MARRIAGE". And suggested better vampire books. Link http://www.dn.se/DNet/jsp/polopoly.jsp?d=1353&a=823324 to Swedish debate:

Well, a debate took place. Pro and against. And like "all sorts of reading is better than not reading at all." And things like that. Well, this is my opinion.

I sort of agree with a lot of the different opinions. I read the first book in English and loved it. YES a new vampire book for young women. Yes, a love able character and an ordinary heroine. And since I am not that good at shades in the English language I really didn't think anything of it.

I did recommend it to lots of girls. I did. Then the debate. And then I read the two other books in Swedish, my language. And was, a bit disappointed. Put on my librarianglasses, and I had to admit. The books have a very clear moral. The funny thing is that it's the girl who wants to loose herself have sex and become a vampire, it's the guy who is the restraining one. Hm......

The intrigue is, well not that remarkable. But it keeps me reading, and it kept me getting to the third book. The characters are, well, cliches in some ways. It is not great literature. It is not. The languages is like in a Fab five book (mysterious five?, the Enid Blytons). There is no sex, but Lot's of lust and violence and killings. Honestly, does Mrs Meyers watch a lot of splatter movies?The setting place is like something I've seen on TV.

BUT and here is the BUT. With all series like Angel, Buffy the Vampire slayer, and witches (don't know the original name) all the great anime with supernatural and strong girls. Where can I get something like this in a book if I am like 12-16? I will read Pierce (Pearce) to see if that is an option. I read a Swedish novel that people said was a good alternative. Well, not if you were twelve. The only option I really can think of might be a bit too much for twelve year olds. That is, the first three Ann Rice novels. Unfortunately they are not available at the library, I think........have too check. Do you have any suggestions?

I read those novels, and I might give them to my friends children who reads Meyer. But on the other hand reading Rice was a terrifying and life changing experience. I still remember things from them. Like even if you live for hundreds of years you don't get better, you just become more and more yourself. I keep thinking of that. I also hesitate to give them Rice because the books are truly dark. Truly depraved. Truly vicious in someways. Do I want children to read that? So, the problem with Meyer is, there are no, what I know of right now, better options.

And I am shamelessly looking forward to part four. Even though I've read so many better vampire novels.

Adults in fictionbooks.

A colleague of mine is worried that adults in children fictions books tends to be less like good adults. They are either absent, having severe problems or are just too full of themselves.

That might be true. Plenty of books seems to be like that. Good or bad? A picture of our society? Myself and friends are according to our passports obviously grown up. Do we act it. Not really. So maybe, just maybe the books are true to reality. BUT that is not what I was going to say. The example my colleague took to show this new trend. Was Harry Potter.

SO, statement: The NEW TREND with incompetent adult/parents. Example: Harry Potter.
Hm. Another colleague and objected fiercely. The other colleague because: Harry Potters experience of bad adults is not a new theme. It is as old as folklore and Charles Dickens. I agree.

Second. This is what I want to argue, that Harry Potter is the opposite. Harry Potter has lots of adult role models, lots of individually portrayed adults who are there to guide him and support him. They are truly adults. They are role models even to us grown up readers. There are plenty of bad adults, but that's life.

True, the Dursleys are not very nice, but they are the evil stepfamily. But notice, his aunt has taken her responsibility and brought him up. I'll put Sirius Black along with Dursleys. Because Sirius seems like a modern adult who puts himself and his business first. Not Harrys. He is more like a friend than a father or guardian.

About the others. The Weasleys of course. A traditional sort of family with the mother as a housewife? and the working dad. The fussing mum, who knits and cooks and fiercely defend her children and Harry. (Why so many men, and few female rolemodels though.) And the men.... of course there are so many. There is Dumbledore, a fathers figure, or a mentor? Mrs McConahaug (excuse my spelling). Adult, of course. Rolemodel of course. Remus Lupin. And not an easy one, Snape. Snape who constantly has to struggle not too se Harry's father, but Harry. The perhaps big child Hagrid.

The question is not wether the adults are perfect. But they are there to protect, they are responsible, and they are guides in how to live as wizards in a bad world. Even the evil ones like Malfoys mother sees to her child. Because that is what parents are suppose to do. The true evil one Voldemort is very much like a big child. He wants it his way, he needs the power. In the books where we see his young self, or get to know his childhood story, it is as I remember a story of a neglected and hurt child. A child who grew up to be a selfish and proud teen, and then an evil adult who hasn't learned how to be a good person and live with others. Harry Potter to me is a story about growing up, facing life, and he has got lot's of models to look to.

Hypocondria, staying up tooo late

So, I am a hypochondriac. Meaning:
* I think every bodily signal is something bad.
* I react unlogical to disease. I go to doctors when I don't need to and I ignore real symptoms and is really frightened to go to doctors when ill.
* I believe it's the worst.
* I get paralyzed by anxiety and reacts in a way that is not healthy. Like I have a disposition for diabetes, bet being afraid of some other disease I stop exercising. This is contraproductive since I need the exercise to keep my bloodsugar stable.
* I can't stand blood.
* I can't tolerate pain when in anxiety.
* I need reassurance all the time. From everybody.


So, status. I haven't been working for about two weeks, this week I am on holiday. I have been paralysed by diarrhoea and fear. I feel exhausted.

Doctors opinion: tests show nothing, rektoscopy shows nothing, they will refer me to a specialist and a coloctoscopy. But expect that to show nothing. Diagnosis on evidence nothing found and my history of stomach cramps: IBS. I can live with that.

But now I am still convinced I have cancer. Somewhere. Like stomach or ovaries. Well......this blog will not deal anymore with my diseases. I will hide them to myself. I will fight it on my own. But just so you know. This is me. I believe I have cancer because I am tired. Because my temperature goes up as soon as I do something physical like walking, or cleaning. Then as soon as I rest it drops again. It is not normal. I have cancer. Of course no one believes me. I have just taken like 20 testfactors in my blood and like 5 in my shit and they were all good or very good.

I believe I have cancer. I don't know what to do.

I think it has something to do with accepting. Accepting the possibility of being dying.

Accepting the possibility of loosing everything.
Of not having it my way.

Accepting that I can never really know.

I will move on.

My grandmother was the same. She did eventually die. She had anxiety and tried to kill herself when she was 89.

My mother is the same. She is very healthy and not a hypochondriac. But she worries and has worried, a lot of her life. I think she suffers from an early stage of dementia.

I will fight this. I will fight my anxiety, my fear, my obsession. Because in the end it doesn't save me from dying. It just keeps me from living.