I admit, I've gotten away from blogging. Why? Well, I discovered Twitter a few months ago, and got quickly addicted to it, but since our 24 day vacation in Europe, I admit I've fallen off that wagon too. The paradox was that it was probably a great time to micro-blog, but far too rich for my blood, even with an international roaming package.

Too much of blogging (in general) is what I did today, and with who, yadda, yadda, yadda. I want to get away from that. Yes, good topics result out of the everyday and the mundane, but the fact is, its better generally to just write about, I don't know, ideas....

Hence, I find myself inspired after reading another "friend's" unwitting blog post. Whether the quotations get removed from around friend at some point, remains to be seen according to her actions from here on out.

An idea I'd like to discuss today are the pitfalls of blogging. Or blogging used unwisely. I'm all for having a forum to voice your feelings, but I think we should generally draw a line when it comes to insulting your so-called friends on the internet. And generally, its just dumb to do so when there's even the slightest chance they'll get to read about it.

Like today. Today, I missed Sweden. Let's be honest--everyday I miss Sweden. Some days I just march through life, but other days, like today--I have a little more brain space on hand to think a little. I really hope Keith and I can get it together financially and job wise to move to Sweden in a few years. I think it would be a great adventure for us and our family--but that's a topic for another day.

I was really missing Sweden and reading through old e-mails. While I love the country, its actually the people I miss the most. I have good friends there, particularly my first host parents, who mean a great deal to me personally. While my Swedish parents they have not been an ever-present group of friends, they are friends none the less, and friends who have seen me through some challenging times.

The fact that I really come back for the people in Sweden made reading this excerpt from a "friend's" blog all the more painful:

Igår kväll mötte vi 2 jobbiga amerikaner och åt middag med dom på Mälarpaviljongen på Kungsholmen. Dom snackade så klart i ett om oväsentliga grejer. Efter några timmar fick Jeppen och jag nästan exem i öronen och det var äntligen tur att bryta upp. Vi gick vidare och tog några glas på Pontonen.

Don't speak Swedish? Alyssa's here to translate (literally)!!! (Since Swedish words can also mean synonyms, I have added these where appropriate--you can see the meaning is the really the same and there's no mistaken understanding on my part.)

Yesterday evening we met 2 tedious (or trying) Americans and ate dinner with them at the Mälarpaviljongen on Kungsholmen. They chatted (talked, gossiped) so much and about unessential things. After a few hours Jesper and I got nearly practically (or almost) an ear exam and then it was finally time to break up. We went further and had a few drinks at Pontonen.

I am certainly not going to tell you that we didn't do most of the talking. Admittedly, Keith and I are, like the common American stereotype--talkers. But, I must confess we were at a loss on how to fill the time. Yes, that is another cultural difference between us and the Swedes---Americans don't do the whole companionable silence thing with others, at least not unless you're married to them. That I knew. I also nudged Keith a few times to lower the volume of his voice a little but there's only so much you can do after a few beers and him. I'm all for companionable silence, I miss it when I'm back Stateside, on the other hand, it seems a little odd to not see friends for 2 years and then sit and just sip beers together. So I figured the time was to catch up.

The fact is, I talk to most of my Swedish friends maybe once or twice a year. This friend was no exception. There was a lot to cover...namely, Keith had a new job, we bought our first apartment, we got a dog, my father had an amputation, my mom got remarried, we plan on starting our family this fall. I recognize this isn't as exciting as bungee-jumping off a cliff or starting your own spy agency, or whatever, but its our life and what we had to discuss at the table. And we did, a few times, ask them to talk about themselves because we were genuinely interested and wanted them to fill the space a little. This they did somewhat, but only after we said "Hey, enough about us, how about you?"

Another point of contention (although it wasn't stated) might have been my speaking English almost entirely that evening. My Swedish, is actually quite good. I don't call it fluent, but mostly I think that's because I'm used to having more words to work with in English. Words like "two-faced" which apparently don't exist in Swedish ("insincere" or "false" is as close as they have, and those words lack a certain oomph in English). Either that, or I need a better Swedish dictionary.

While I love traveling with my husband, and its fun to see things with him, I do miss the fact that I feel I must speak English more so he isn't just sitting there while I ignore him. That was only part excuse in this case though. The restaurant, while lovely, was crowded and loud, with music in the background as well. Fun, but, I find it very difficult to concentrate in this environment especially when I'm trying to also be somewhat entertaining and make sure Keith isn't left out. It seems whenever I get together with people there the usual venue selected is a club, or loud restaurant. Admittedly too, we're the only people I know that are married, and we've sort of moved past the clubbing state of existence...so its not the top place we'd pick either. But where friends are, we'll go, and we have a good time.

So, needless to say I'm disappointed. Disappointed to be a bore and/or having a boring life in my friend's eyes. Disappointed my friend chose to talk smack about me online rather than speak to me directly. I want to be understanding, but this friend has lived in the US, for a year, and she should very well know its not personal, understanding that Keith hasn't had the living experience in Sweden I had, and by using a little imagination she might have figured out why there was so much blather. And she might recall that we tried to draw her out too. Keith is particularly crushed because he really thought my friend was a cool chick. Now he's seeing a different side and isn't so sure about meeting up with her again.

Typically when I go on these trips my host family has a nice farewell dinner our last night in Sweden, which we did Friday night instead of Saturday...but it wasn't the same! I know that seems childish. Had I known that the content of our lives was just going to be like ear-fucking for these people, I would have stayed in Eskilstuna or Mälarbaden and been just fine with that. I could have gotten some kebab which I missed doing, yet again, gone on a walk in the woods. Oh, well, there is the next trip, I suppose. And beyond that, it looks like I will have one less friend to chase down to visit on my next vacation unless a sincere apology is headed our way.

The moral of the story folks? Watch what you blog about, even from the other side of the world, in another language. Its a very, very small world.

Meanwhile, I've taken the time to write a thoughtful apology in Swedish and post it to the comments section of the offending entry. Hopefully it will put her on a little notice, but also minimally defend myself against the accusation of tediousness. After all, I agree good conversation is a two-way street, not a never-ending monologue, but there's also only so much teeth pulling one can do...

Labels: apology, blogging, friends, Stockholm, Sweden, Swedish, vacation

Based upon my last entry, someone might say that I’m reading my journal from 1998-99 because I’m nostalgic for past travels and adventures. But they’d only be partially right.

In actuality, when I finished my journal (well, not actually finished…I missed putting the last few weeks in, not to mention my round-Europe trip). I promised myself that in 10 years time I’d go back and read the journals—once I had a little time and distance between all the events and emotions of that year to see what I thought. It is amazing how fast time has passed and how much I have changed along with those who were a part of my life at age 17-18.

I am now married, 28, living in a major city, have a bachelors and a master’s degree. Buying my first home and thinking about starting a family. My parents have divorced for over 4 years. My brothers are both out of schooling (Jimmy nearly). Mom has moved to another town too. My best friend is married and living in her home. Of the exchange students I keep up with, one is married with a daughter. Another is still single. Of old high school friends of whom I write, one is married with a son, another is engaged. Others have been long lost to time and distance.

Some are absent from the pages, most notably my husband. In reading my old journal, I found it difficult to think back to a time where I didn’t even know he existed. In fact, none of the people who are the greatest part of my life in Boston existed to me yet.

The attitudes, words, and situations described within the pages of the journal have left me astonished. I’ve been devouring the pages vociferously over a two-day period and I’ve read the entirety of two composition notebooks. I see so many other but also similar angles to myself, things I write that are dead-wrong and incredibly immature or naive, but also things that are rather shocking (well, to me) and insightful. Moments and words exchanged, once long forgotten, have re-surfaced. Sometimes I catch myself laughing, other times I’m crying with tears that never seem to end because I really feel for the girl who is really struggling to survive. I see where I did right by myself, what I cheated myself out of, and I also see where I was truly let down by others. I’m impressed by the burden I carried at times. I don’t know that I could have handled it at age 28 any better or at all.

On the other hand, I read cards from relatives and friends and read my conversations with some friends I made that year, and I see how much people truly cared about me---although I didn’t fully appreciate it at the time. I am eternally grateful to my best friend and my grandparents who wrote cards and letters that really made me realize how truly loved I was. I also see in the photos and compliments paid to me on the pages that I was, even in my own current opinion, once truly pretty on the outside---in fact, often stunning. I’m angry with myself for not appreciating it then and being so hard on myself for my appearance. Some of that, however, isn’t my fault either. And additionally, I’m angry that I haven’t taken care of myself the way I ought to the last 10 years.

I still have the third and final composition note book to read and am thinking about what I want to do from there. I see patterns in myself that I’d like to think further on, parenting mistakes made that I’d rather avoid as I see the confusion and hurt they caused me as I tried to live up to impossible standards with very little information. I see how growing up in a small town with limited viewpoints really hindered me up until that point…this validates the choice I’ve made to live in Boston.

So where I go from here, I’m not sure. Perhaps writing it into something more coherent, but I worry about self-censorship. I see the uncomfortable, the bad, the ugly; the uplifting…it would be hard to organize the ramblings of an 18-year-old adolescent. On the other hand, it’s probably worth a shot.

Minimally, even though keeping the journal was a lot of work—it was totally worth it. I’m so glad I did it. After I finish reading, Keith will have his turn. I don’t intend to show the books to anyone else.

Labels: friends, growth, history, journals, retrospection, Sweden