Strangers Diary - Free Diary Online

What did the person in "The Twelve Days Of Christmas" do with all the things they got?

Why can't you get to Heaven in a limousine? I know the answer is - The Lord don't sell no gasoline (which, by the way, is a double negative, indicating that he does, actually, sell gasoline) but here's the thing - once you've arrived at Heaven in your limo, you don't need gasoline any more - you don't even need the limo any more.

The only way it could possibly matter that the Lord doesn't sell gasoline is if you started off in Heaven, drove somewhere else and then tried to get back on the same tank of gas.

So technically the song should be "You can't get away from Heaven and then come back in a limousine, because the Lord don't see no gasoline". But that doesn't scan very well.

It took me until I was about twenty five to realise that the Angels were not singing "Hark The Herald".

This September, it will be 13 years since I last had an alcoholic drink. Which, I know, makes me sound like a recovering alcoholic, but actually - not so much. Part of my not drinking comes down to me driving lots of places - generally when I go out in a group, I do the driving, so I don't drink. But the flip side of that is I tend to drive so I don't have to drink, because - when it comes right down to it - I just don't like the taste of alcohol. Which, in today's society, is apparently not an acceptable thing most of the time. You can not drink because you are a recovering alcoholic, and you can not drink because you are on meds, and you can not drink because you are driving, but generally - not drinking because you don't like to drink is frowned upon.

There are other things like that - some that really annoy me.

I read The Hobbit when I was in junior school, and Lord of The Rings in Senior school. And, to me, they are beloved stories from my childhood. A part of my history - I grew up with them and they form a number of good memories from when I was young.

Now - a lot of people say the same about the Star Wars films. Well - about the first three, not so much the more recent trilogy. They say that this was a part of their growing up, and they are beloved memories.

So why is it when they rant at George Lucas for changing the plots when he edits the films, there is general support for the rants, and yet when I rant at Peter Jackson for hacking up Lord of The Rings and hacking up The Hobbit, people tell me I am being a snob and that - obviously - when something is adapated then changes have to be made?

It's because there is a massive amount of reverse snobbery in the world. You tell someone "I don't have a TV" and they look at you as if you were mental, but tell them "I haven't read a book since I left high school" and they'll just shrug.

So when you tell someone that the Lord of The Rings films were a travesty that pretty much crapped on the story that Tolkien wrote, they treat you as a lunatic and say "You're just being snobby - they're movies, enjoy them". But say that the re-releases of the Star Wars trilogy are a travesty that crapped on the originals, and you will be carried through the streets of London on their shoulders.

Just when is the River/Amy/Rory scene at the end of "Wedding of River Song" set in the timeline? I have been thinking about this every since it aired, and I can not work it out. Just when I think I've got it pinned down, something else bounds in to my head and screws it up.

And who ordered the hit on Michael? Five Angels or Roth?

And why does it rain mostly in the plain in Spain?

I have no reason to not like her i just don't. She's never done anything wrong towards me i just have an non-dying dislike for her.

From a certain point of view, Columbo is a very dangerous series to show on TV.

Each week, they show someone preparing a murder, committing a murder and then getting caught and arrested for the murder.

But when they are caught, it is generally because of one small tiny detail - the radio was on the wrong channel, there is something in a place it can't have been - things like that.

So - if you were that way inclined, surely you would take note of one of the plots, take note of what went wrong, carry out the plot to kill someone you don't like, and then wander away with your hands in your pockets, singing tra-la-la-la-la.

All because Columbo repeatedly shows you how to commit a perfect crime.

She and I are very much the same in quite a lot of ways. And the hell of it is, these traits have been there since way before we met - in fact, if you believe Miss Stacey, they have been there since we turned sixteen.

(I guess I should point out she turned sixteen about seven years after I did, but still - my point remains the same).

We both think we are not good enough for each other, and we both think that the other is wrong about that.

We would both rather go out of our way to see the other happy, and we would both rather do something the other wants to do than say what we want to do ourselves. (And that was a slightly better organized thought in my head).

And, and this is the part that is..... well - I want to say concerning, but that really isn't the right word. Obsessing me? Well - I can't think of the right word right now, but no doubt it will come to me two seconds after I press save.

But, the part that is obsessing me is that neither of us want to cause chaos or problems for each other, but neither of us consider going out of our way to be "chaos", just something we must do.

I am possibly going to be having a stay in hospital in the near future, and when I come out, a fairly long recovery time - during which I will more or less incapable of looking after myself (on the cooking/shopping/etc side) and since I will probably need someone to watch over me anyway.

Last time, I moved back in with my parents for my recovery time. But last time I hadn't Her, let alone fallen in love.

This time - this time She wants to come and look after me. To take some leave and spend it looking after me.

So, as you can imagine, I am entirely split down the middle over this.

The largest part of me is entirely touched, and more in love than ever. And spending that much time with my Dulcinea is something I always want.

But a small part of me thinks she is going to far too much trouble just for me. And I know - she doesn't think it is too much trouble, and I adore her even more for it. But she is going to give up some holiday to come and stay with me while I will be mopey and sleepy and she's going to have to do everything for me (cooking, cleaning, shopping and so on).....

And if I tell her she shouldn't have to go through this, she will tell me it's no trouble and she wants to, and I know she will mean it - that she wants to take care of me because she loves me.

Yeah - we are exactly alike.

Ever since I started dating..... dating. Such a small word for such a large thing. But then, how can one single word - no matter how strong and powerful it might be - describe what I feel for my Dulcinea?

Although, now I am reminded of scene in The West Wing they point out that The Gettysburg Address is only 266 words long, and The Ten Commandments is only 173 words long and they have affected generation after generation.

But even with that, I think finding a single word to describe my relationship with my Dulcinea is nigh on impossible.

However, since I want to write about weekends, I think I will resign myself to use the word dating for now - although perhaps a better one will come to me later on.

Ever since I started dating my beloved Dulcinea, the weekends have turned in to a paradox (a paradox! a most ingenious paradox!) in that they are both too short and far, far too long.

I like my job, but it is not my passion. I do not live and die with the successes and failures of the company, and while I will generally endeavour to do my best, and sometimes beyond my best, I generally switch off at the end of the day and don't switch back on until the next morning.

But because my job is not my passion, I enjoy time away from it. I look forward to the weekend because it means I can take a break from it and do what I want to do - such as writing. Indeed, in recent times I have spent more time writing than anything else - the plot bunnies lay seige to my mind, and I find myself writing for hours at a time. Even when I realise there are other things I could do (I have a number of games waiting to be played, and books to be read) I feel the urge to finish the chapter, and sketch out the next one.

So, when I realise that it is late Sunday evening and that the weekend will be over, I think that it has gone by far too soon.

And yet when I wake up first thing on Saturday morning, I look at the long expanse of the two days stretching out in front of me, and it just seems too long a time to spend without my Dulcinea.

During the week, it is not so bad - work takes up most of my day, and by the time I am home, my Dulcinea is usually online so we can spend the evening talking, and while that doesn't make up for her not being here, it does make it slightly easier to deal with.

But the weekend - oh the weekend. Forty eight hours of solitude that I fill up with all sorts of distractions and entertainment - reading, writing, games and watching (and, in some cases, rewatching) films and tv shows. All in an attempt to take my mind off the fact my Dulcinea is far away.

And thus the paradox is born - I want the weekends to last forever, but if they did, I would be miserable.

Yesterday, Miss Brown moved to another desk in our office.

I realise that this doesn't seem like the earth shattering news that it actually is, but without a back story, most of the stories in the world would not be as good as they are.

If you just read Rhett's parting statement to Scarlett without reading the rest of the book, you would think he was being a mean, heartless man whereas he is actually doing what I think most men - hell, what most people would do in his situation.

The final climax of The Godfather, without the rest of the story to explain it, makes very little sense and seems a bit stupid. But once you understand just what it signifies, and what Michael has done to be worthy of such a gesture, then it is a remarkably powerful symbol.

And so, without knowing about the last six years, the idea that Miss Brown is moving to another desk might not seem as.... important as it actually is.

Miss Brown and her brother were the first two staff I met at the company, excepting the two senior staff who interviewed me, and the office manager who took me through to the interview room. So, I suppoose, they were the fourth and fifth members of staff I met.

Just to go off on a tangeant, they were originally introduced by their first names, and since I was entirely new to the company and had never met them before, my initial thought it that they were a married couple.

Happily, I did not give voice to that thought, because I am fairly certain it would have let to quite a lot of mocking over the last few years.

Anyway I got the job (obviously - since I am not writing this as a suspense story, but a lot of plot exposition, there are not going to be that many surprises) and my first project was working with Miss Brown.

According to the documents of the time, I was supposed to be in charge of the project, but if I am honest, that was pretty much a fiction. I dealt with the administration side of things, but essentially she ran one half of the project and I ran the other half.

Halfway through, we moved to a new building. We arranged so that we'd stay in the same office. This was partly due to the fact we were still working on the same project, but also because we liked working together.

The project came to an end, and even though Miss Brown and I went on to different projects, we stayed working side by side in our office.

Before you start to wonder if this story ends with us riding off in to the sunset together, it doesn't. I have my Dulcinea, and she has a boyfriend who she loves as much as I love my Dulcinea. We are just good friends, although I have to admit I have started to think of her more of a sister than a friend.

But now a new project is starting, and - because of the requirements of it - Miss Brown has moved from being on the desk next to me to one across the way.

Which isn't all that far, and doesn't make a great deal of difference, but it is a change. And, depending on how the future goes, ther is the tiny chance that she might be moved to a different office completely.

And, I have to admit, that does fill me with a mild dread and an idea of sadness. I am not the most sociable and outgoing person in the world, and have trouble making friends - even in the company. And I have worked with Miss Brown ever since I started, so the idea of not working with her....

tick tock goes the clock....

If you ever want to get a true glimpse in to the state of this country, visit the yahoo bulletin boards for the news part of the site.

You should really only do this if you are either fairly cynical, or don't actually care about the future of the country.

Because if you actually have any hope this country has a decent future, these boards will beat it out of you pretty damn quickly.

The first thing you will notice is that - judging by 90% of the posts - everything is the fault of immigrants.

It doesn't matter what the story is about - a killer whale getting trapped in a beer can? That wouldn't happen if we didn't allow all this immigration. A story about the world's heaviest man? Well - if there weren't so many immigrants, then he'd be able to find a job and work some of that weight off.

You should also be aware that, for the majority of the posters, "Muslim" and "immigrant" are entirely interchangeable words and mean exactly the same thing.

Of course, when it comes to stories about politics and crime, then the posts about blaming immigrants/Muslims increase at an almost exponential rate. Even when the story quite clearly says a Catholic man has been arrested in Derry for explosive offences, you'll soon learn that he is actually a Muslim, and just pretending to be a Catholic to avoid suspicion.

You will also find a lot of people who "are not racist". You can tell this because the first line of their post is "I'm not a racist, but...." or "I don't want to sound racist, but...." or "I don't want people thinking I am a racist, but..."

Don't get me wrong - they are racist, and fairly blatantly so. But since they go out of their way to tell you they're not, you really should take them at their work, and take their rants about black people ruining the earth and immigrants wrecking the country as informed comment, not racist babbling.

The same problem also exists with homophobia, although far fewer people start their abusive and bigoted rants with "I'm not homophobic", because apparently gay bashing is more acceptable than racism in the modern age.

But surprisingly it is not the vast swathes of racists or homophobes that make me despair the most about the future of humanity.

No - it's the people who are just so *thick* that it makes you wonder how they haven't died out through natural selection.

Such as the person who said that - to avoid his organs being taken against his will (in this "opt-out" plan for donation) - he will have himself cremated.

Because obviously the majority of organs are harvested after a body is buried in the ground, rather than in the sterile, hygienic environment of the hospital room the person has died in.

Or the person who said that he would much rather live under a dictatorship because at least then criminals would get the punishments they desire.

Or the long, long - ever so long - line of people who don't seem to be able to connect the fact that the laws that protect people they don't like also protect people they do like.

All in all, it is a fairly good cross-section of the worst aspects of humanity, and one that - if you spend too long thinking about it - will just depress you to the point of giving up.

And you might think you can fight against it - that by replying with a well-reasoned, well-presented, logically thought out argument, you will teach them the error of their ways and make them see that - perhaps - there is a better way.

But that way lies madness. Because the moment you put pen to paper (r finger to key) to refute anything they have said, then they will make insinuations (usually very unsubtle ones) that you are one of the immigrants you are defending, or one of the gays you are defending.

That if you dare to believe that not all immigrants are criminals, then clearly you must be one of them, because no true Englishman would ever say such a foolish thing.

If the future of humanity is written on those boards, then we are all truly doomed.

But I have a hope that the people who post there are only a minority, that they only make up the smallest part of our society. And that the greater part is the greater part - capable of using reason, logic and their brains.

And so, life becomes sunny, once again.

For the past twenty years I have tried to live my life by what I refer to as the path of peace. A tad pretentious, I know, but I can't think of any other way to refer to it.

I try not to get angry at people, or to hate people, or to want to hurt people or to take revenge on people. To act with love in all things, or - if I can not manage love (and trust me, in some cases it is a lot harder than you might think) - then at least respect (or at the very least courtesy).

I am not going to say I always succeed, but generally my failures are with politicians. However, in that case, my hate and loathing comes from what they are doing to the people of this country, rather than being specifically aimed at the people in question.

I am also willing to admit there is one person who I find it totally impossible to follow this path with - a guy I used to work with. But in my defence, no one else liked him, and he really was a nasty, vile, evil little man.

But, on the whole, ever since my sister died, I have endeavoured to go through the world motivated by peace and love, rather than loathing and hate.

However I would be willing to spend the rest of eternity in Shepherd Book's "special hell" in exchange for fifteen minutes of being able to lecture Them at will. Being able to say what I want to say, being able to tell them exactly what I think of their behaviour, and of the way they treat her. To tell them how crappy they, and how only truly appalling people (who really do deserve to go to that special hell) would do what they do on a regular basis.

But then I take a deep breath, count to ten, imagine I am Link, riding Epona across Hyrule Field, and then let it pass.

Until the next time. Because, if there's one thing I have learned, it's that there will be a next time.

My birthday is coming up soon, and - for maybe the first time in my life - I have actively chosen to spend it with my beloved Dulcinea, rather than my family.

Is this related to my brother? Or is it because I am unwilling to stand up to my parents over certain things?

While I am not that good at predicting the future, I think they would have chosen a restaurant that I don't really like all that much. But as little as I like it, I like the idea of saying no to my parents even less.

However, while not saying no to my parents is possibly a part of my decision, I think that the main part of it is wanting to spend my birthday with Dulcinea, and having her all to myself.

It's not that my family dislike her - quite the opposite - but given the time we get to spend together is usually short, I want to spend as much time with her myself as possible. And while it might seem a tad selfish, I would much rather spend my birthday with her than we her and my family.

The side effect of getting to go to the restaurant I want (and that my Dulcinea likes) is just an added bonus.

While I realise that not everyone was brought up the way I was, and that not everyone reads as much as I do, there are some things in this world that really do make me want to cry.

The most recent of these was someone who was comparing Harry Potter to Lord of The Rings to Star Wars, and bemoaning the fact that Lord Of The Rings now seemed to be going the same way as Star Wars, because they had released a prequel film as an attempt to cash in on the success of the original trilogy.

I suppose, from a certain point of view, this is not a serious problem, but honestly - it really pissed me off. Simply because it is clear the person doing the bemoaning has no idea about what s/he is talking about, and hasn't bothered even looking it up.

And if they are willing to speak with such authority and distaste about a topic as small and insignificant as which book came first, then I can't imagine if they are talking about other things (government policy, race relations, war in the Middle East, gay rights, etc, etc, etc) then they are going to do any more research before opening their mouths.

The Hobbit - 1937. Its commercial success prompted a request for a sequel, which turned out to be Lord of The Rings in 1955.