I Talk To Four Walls - an online journal

Fri  Aug 31 -  One Year Anniversary

Leafing through: Drawing on the Right Side of the Brain by Betty Edwards.


A British online-diary I discovered while googling on googling (I kid you not): yesterday tomorrow today. I've only read a few entries so far but I liked it immediately. She writes well, and I have this suspicion that she might be an INFP. (Well, at least I know she's a feminist & atheist and is pro-choice.) This isn't to say that I can relate to all INFP's completely though. For example, check out Michael's online journal over at www.archangel-x.net. I feel for him 'cuz he's a fellow INFP. He's smart and talented, but his extreme sense of melodrama and heightened sensitivity to material objects overwhelms me. Oh, check out the photojournal of another INFP: Adam. See? Not all INFP's are as unsociable and maladjusted as me.


Did anyone receive a spam from Cardwish.com? God, what insidious behaviour. They sent me an email implying that someone had sent me an e-card for me to pick-up via their site. So, wondering who it could be, I clicked on the link. I logged in giving my name and email address and the user password that was included in the email, but there was no message for me!  It was all a hoax to get me to click onto their site so that I would verify for them that my e-mail address was valid. Being in a bad mood to begin with, this spam just made me livid. I sent an email using the sender address to complain, but there was a delay in sending so I don't know whether they ever received my email. Not willing to let it go, I e-mailed a complaint to the Federal Trade Commission in the US, carbon copying it to the charities that Cardwish allegedly donates to. This "Steve Daniels" of Baltimore, Maryland who supposedly owns the domain name probably thinks he's got some clever internet marketing scheme up his sleeve, but if he's gonna be unethical by lying, he's gonna have to pay.

Canada has got to follow the US's lead and enact tough legislation against spamming as well as other violations of privacy via email and the 'net..


Despite my short links page , I actually read quite a few on-line journals regularly: ~25. # of journals I check out occasionally: ~5. Wow, that's more than I realized!

I still don't feel like writing here. But I figured that with today being the one-year anniversary of this online journal, I ought to jot down something, almost anything to rediscover why I used to enjoy writing here. 

I had started an entry two weeks ago, but that turned out into one big bitch session. 

I'm just a raving bitch these days. I yelled at my uncle last week because I was sick of being his secretary, having had to rewrite a letter for him because he wasn't happy with how my sister-in-law had worded it previously. When I rewrote it, he questioned my writing skills even though HIS English sucks ass compared to mine. The letter wasn't even that important. It was just a notification to his tenants that he was raising the rent. Damn perfectionist. I was sick of him wasting his time and mine worrying about small details that wouldn't have mattered to anyone else. I was sick and tired of seeing him waste his life that way. More importantly, I was very upset that I was so damn similar to him. I didn't have the ability to shake myself and change, so I just directed all my anger and frustration toward him for obsessing over unimportant matters and ignoring the bigger picture. Yeah, I was real compassionate to my uncle - the one whose wife is undergoing chemo right now for breast cancer. I'm a fucking bitch.

Not as bad, but still filling me with remorse and humiliation afterward, was my behaviour Wednesday evening on the tennis courts. Granted, it was my first day of my period and I was tired and having cramps, but I was still unclassy. I was playing poorly; my serves were hitting the net or they went way long, mainly because my tosses were awful to begin with. And my opponent took forever to serve. She repeatedly caught the ball whenever she didn't like her toss. Then when she did serve, the ball either hit the net or it bounced onto my side so short and with such a spin that I couldn't return it properly. I was just whining and behaving like such a child. What a freaking grouch. I had been introduced to some other people on the courts too, but I didn't make an effort to be friendly and make a good impression for them because I just thought, oh hell, I'm probably never going to meet them again anyway. Yeah, good attitude. One thing that I have to remember is that my self-esteem and mood shouldn't be determined by how well I play tennis (or anything else) that day. I'm so immature. I'm glad that I'm now able to recognize that what I did was wrong, but I wish I hadn't behaved like that in the first place. 

Part of the reason I've been so moody is that I feel so lost. I still don't know what it is I want to do with my life. I've lost so much confidence in my abilities and I don't feel I can talk to anyone about the extent of my problems. Hence, I've been avoiding friends. A friend who's now in med school had emailed me quite a while ago asking me what I've been up to. I replied, "Don't ask." So he wrote back, "Ok, I won't ask. So I'm telling: Please tell me what you're up to."  I still haven't responded to that email. There have been quite a few other friends that I've been avoiding for the same reason, including Jacklyn, who I feel especially 'blessed' to be considered her friend, and Jessie,  who has returned to Canada for a visit. I still haven't returned Jacklyn's email nor Jessie's phone call. And I don't feel like attending a barbecue this weekend b/c I don't want to answer questions. It's been like this for a year now.  If I keep this up, I truly will have no friends. And that will further my depression. It's a vicious cycle: I feel depressed because I have nobody who cares about me. But when people contact me to inquire as to how I'm doing, I avoid them. As a result, no one's around. Uh, yeah.

When I watch my niece happily running around the yard by herself, laughing, being amused by the smallest things, I know that my single greatest wish for her, aside from being healthy, is that she will be happy. I don't care what profession she ends up with. I just want her to be happy. To be upbeat and happy to be alive as she is now. I don't want her to be down and depressed, moping around like I'm doing, feeling sorry for myself but not doing much about it. I think that all parents ultimately want that for their children - to be happy. It would break my heart to have my niece grow up into a constantly melancholy person. Yet, this is what I am. Therefore, I must be breaking my parents' hearts. I don't know if I should make a concerted effort to be jolly or at least calm and optimistic in front of my parents, just to alleviate their worries a tad. I remember when my great-aunt came to visit from Toronto. She was likely having a strained relationship at that time with her husband and daughter, so things in her life weren't all copasetic, but when her mother (my great-grandmother) asked her whether she was happy, my great-aunt replied yes, mainly because she didn't want her mother to worry about her.

I really need to learn how to be a person. 


On a lighter note: Paul Newman was really hot when he was younger. He's in Vancouver right now. If he was about 40 years younger, I'd be out on the town hunting him down. I can't believe people my age don't know who he is! A while back, I watched him and Elizabeth Taylor in Cat on a Hot Tin Roof. (Yes, Liz was hot looking then too.) And from it, I learned a new word: mendacity (n) or mendacious (adj.) - lying, deceitful; untrue, false. See? reading this entry wasn't a complete waste of time, was it? Perhaps you learned a new word too?


Random thoughts: the Venus 3-blade razor doesn't seem to give any smoother a shave than a 2-blade razor. And what's with those new Always overnight maxi's that are SO thin? I've already soiled at least 3 underpants and 2 pairs of shorts.  


Ok, putting on a happy face just for you: "Have a pleasant Labour Day. Thanks for reading!"

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