Facebook Timeline Dilemma

So, I know this is kind of out-of-context for me and my blog but today I have decided to talk about the whole Facebook Timeline story that is all the rage on our widespread social media platform at the moment. Sooner or later, everyone will have it so it is worth thinking about already for when that transition arrives. I have asked myself a few questions regarding the Timeline:

1. What do I want it to say?
2. Do I want it to say something about me as a person or my ideals? (although I guess they go hand-in-hand)
3. Should it be a fancy OMG-that's-so-clever composition or just a "sweet" pic & profile photo?
4. Do I want to out myself in my profile pic? (as until now I have never shown my entire face)
5. Would it be a good idea to build it up professionally as in showcasing my talents or do I want it personal so that my friends can relate?

Question upon question and only one thing is clear for me at the moment: I kind of want it to stick out from the rest that is out there. I have seen different timeline ideas in the last week, especially on Mashable and ofcourse there have been a few where I thought, "wow, that is pretty awesome!". And that is what I want for mine. I just haven't figured out how yet.

I tried one thing, but failed miserably... It was a collection of items important/relevant to my person all laid out on the floor, which reminded me a little of the following comic:

... but I would have needed a) better lighting b) a product photo light table or c) just better equipment. So my version didn't turn out nearly as good and definately not usable as you can see yourself:

Top: @DavidWeir: great
Bottom: @MissLisa: rubbish

So now I'm still waiting on the world-shaking idea that I am capable of implementing (physically and digitally) and above all, the answers to all my own questions.
Until I find something, I'm gonna continue looking at other peoples timelines and laugh myself silly to Ben Champion's AutoCorrect song... gets me every time...

Christmas is nigh... (5)

Following on from Christmas is nigh... (4), the final bit:

“Have you got a… partner?” 

“You said you were going to explain. So please explain.” 

“Ok. Well then I’ll just explain, and be honest. I… Brian, I… damn I just know I’m going to cry. I erm… I spent a long time wondering whether to actually do this. I know maybe I should have called or told you or I don’t know… but then you know me, a bit crazy and that just turning up and standing in front of your door at Christmas…” 

He looked up from his potatoes. His eyes were wide and she couldn’t tell whether he was angry or not. 

“What do you want to say Marie?” 

“Ok. I missed you. I thought about you almost every day and when I wasn’t thinking of you I imagined you thinking about me. I kept your photo close by me all the time and I prayed you’d answer my messages. I told myself over and over how stupid I’d been and hoped one day you’d forgive me. I thought I’d never see you again or hear your voice and in the end I just couldn’t take it anymore. I had to see you. So here I am. And I guess that’s it. I guess that’s what I want to say. I don’t know whether it’s an apology or explanation but I love you Brian. I loved you the first moment I saw you. I loved you all those years hoping it would happen and then it was all so complicated and in the end I messed it all up. I know I messed it up and I wish it hadn’t been so. I have that regret and I wish so much I hadn’t been so stupid. I’m so sorry. I am so so sorry and if you have found someone that’s fine. I wish you well. I wish that you get everything you deserve. I know you were with someone and if you still are then please say because I’ll leave. I’ll do as I say. I don’t want to do wrong again. I care about you too much…” Marie felt the tears begin to tumble down her burning cheeks. “I’m so sorry.” She yearned for him to take her in his strong warm arms but he stood frozen to the spot. 

“I know. I’m sorry too. It wasn’t easy.” He spoke; matter-of-factly. 

The tears raced and she felt sick. It had been a long time since she’d felt so vulnerable and so weak. 

“What do you want me to do Brian? Tell me and I’ll do it. No wait… Let me give you your presents first. I want it to be a good moment.” 

Before he could answer she’d sped to the tree and retrieved the two treasured presents she had hoarded in her home so long. She passed them to him after he’d wiped his hands and moved back to the door frame beside the fridge to allow him space. He carefully unwrapped the first present and smiled. 

“You had this a very long time. I thought I wouldn’t see it again.” 

“It’s yours. It has your name in it.” 

After unwrapping the second one his smile was lighter still. 

“I’ve been practising…” 

She looked him in the eyes. Those sweet, loving eyes she’d missed so much. If anything; this moment was worth her visit. Just looking into his eyes meant everything to Marie. 

“So now tell me Brian. What shall I do? I… I don’t know what to do.” 

Brian put the present down and moved towards her. Marie’s heart thumped beneath her rib cage. He stood before her; so close again she could smell him. She wanted to wrap her arms around his waist and hold him tight. She craved to reach beneath his shirt and feel his warm skin beneath her fingers. Her hands quivered as she watched his thoughts shift to words. 

“What do you want me to do? Shall I go? I…” 

“Shh…” He pressed his fingers to her lips. She swallowed her words and relished the moment more than he would ever know. 

“I’ll tell you what I want.” 

She looked deeply into his eyes in anticipation. 

“I want you to stay. Stay and play a game of scrabble with me. Stay here. Stay here with me. Say you’ll stay, forever.” 

Marie swallowed again and breathed in. She closed her eyes as she felt the tears begin again; heavily and with such relief. 

“I want that. I want that so much. I’ll stay. I’ll stay forever.” 

They stood for a moment before finally, after such a long time, they held each other so tight that it was clear; they had loved each other from the very first moment and throughout all that had happened; it had never gone away. 

“What did you wish for this Christmas Marie?” 

Marie smiled, a tear budding in her eye: “It just came true.”

Christmas is nigh... (4)

Following on from Christmas is nigh... (3):

“Let me get you a cup of coffee… Or do you want to have a shower? I’ll make you a cup of coffee while you shower if you like? Here; I’ll help you up the stairs but then you’ll have to do the rest. I’ll grab you a towel too.” 

Before Marie could protest Brian had pulled her arm over his shoulder and helped her to her feet. He was unaware of the bewildered look on her face and as Marie realised this she wrapped her other arm around his neck. Her body breathed in his scent and she felt warm with love. 

Standing under the shower she let the hot water run over her face as her thoughts bounced around her mind. Surely he wouldn’t have let me stay the evening in his house if he didn’t want me here. Then again he wouldn’t have sent me home. He looks so incredible. She felt even the thought of suddenly being so close to him, after such a long time of wanting to be, make her stomach jump. The shower felt so refreshing and she felt herself humming ‘silent night’ to herself as she heard him outside the door. 

“Marie? I’ve put a t-shirt and some training bottoms here for you and a jumper.” 

“Thank you,” she mumbled back, clutching her arms to her bare chest in protection; from what she did not know. 

As she pulled on the t-shirt and bottoms she smelt him all over her. It was too familiar to be true and she choked down a few tears in the fear it would all be over soon. That she had got this far was already incredible. 

Brian was busy in the kitchen as she padded down the steps. There was a brightly decorated Christmas tree in the corner of the living room and there were presents underneath; both of hers too. 

“It looks lovely. Erm… I probably should explain why I’m here.” 

“You probably should.” He replied, without looking up, as she watched him sternly chopping potatoes. She felt a cold chill down her back. 

“I… I’ve moved to Germany.” 

“I know.” 

“I’ve been really busy and that… I’ve… No. I’m sorry. I’m doing it already. I’m talking around what I actually want to say.” 

“So what do you actually want to say?” 

Marie looked around the kitchen as the cool of his voice spread over the warm memories the room had for her. She looked towards the door where she had watched him wash mud off her shoes after the walk along the canal. She smiled at how they had stood by the counter and kissed. Then she breathed in and remembered that was not where she was now. So much had changed since then; so much had happened. Valentine’s Day had been unique that year and it hadn’t been the same since. 

“I… Can I be honest?” 

“I expect that.” 

Her stomach dropped. This was it. She had known to expect this. The final tear at the wound. The final moment that was going to end everything. He had found his way and she had lost her part in his life. She was the past and he was still her future. She would have to learn to leave him behind.

Christmas is nigh... (3)

Following on from Christmas is nigh... (2):

Marie peeled open her eyelids, aware of the fact that she probably had remnants of mascara glued to her eyelashes. You didn’t take your make-up off. How strange; you don’t normally forget unless you really had too much to drink. Blinking furiously to try and recognise her surroundings, Marie tugged the blanket up to her chin. She squinted, and as she did so she felt a sharp pain in the back of her head. Groan; what did I do? 

With a sharp intake of breath she held onto her forehead as if it were about to fall off. Half-awake she realised she still had clothes on and was not in her own bed but on a sofa. She blinked twice as the large giraffe in the corner of the room, beside a rather familiar television came into focus. That’s when she remembered where she was and suddenly felt caught off guard without the two angular presents tucked under her arm. Then she heard a voice she had so longed to hear for many years. Brian’s. 

“Hey. I’ve wrapped a bandage round your head. Sorry if it’s messed up your hair. I kind of tied it back with a hair bobble but I’m not really very good at doing hair.”Marie looked towards where the voice had come from and felt the nape of her neck crunch into life. 

“Ow” was all she could say. How stupid of you. After years of thinking and imagining this moment over and over and ‘ow’ is all you can think of? He must think you’re so stupid.
“What happened? It looks pretty nasty.” 

How come he hasn’t asked me what I’m doing here and why did he let me in and what does he mean with ‘What happened’? Marie was glad she didn’t have the strength to ask all these questions and before her eyes closed one last time before the morning sun woke her she mumbled;
“Merry Christmas Brian.” 

The glass of water on the little side table glistened in the morning light that came streaming through the gap in the curtains. Marie thrust her hand towards it, gasping with thirst. Yet due to a lack in coordination she managed only to knock it over the table. 

“Oh bugger!” she cursed as her body rolled off the couch onto the floor. 

“Oh dear, you’re a bit shaky aren’t you?!” Marie looked up to see Brian stood above her, reaching to lift her limp body onto the couch again. 

“Let me get you a cup of tea. We may want to get you into the hospital to have you checked out if it doesn’t get better till this evening.” 

“You’re here,” Marie whispered under her breath. 

Brian laughed. She’d missed the sound of his laughter. His laughter was so real and warm; filled with honesty and warmth. 

“This is my house. It’s normal that I’m here. What is a bit surreal right now is that you’re here and that last night my mum and I spent a while wrapping a wound on your head as the rest of my family unwrapped presents. It was quite strange really.” 

The last comment hummed in Marie’s head. She struggled to get to her feet; noticing only the strength in his warm hands. 

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be here. I messed up. I messed up your Christmas and I shouldn’t have come. I’m so sorry. I’ll go.” As Marie lifted the blanket off her shaky legs she breathed heavily. It didn’t feel like she was about to get up and she was right. Her body slumped in fatigue and pain. 

“Don’t Marie. Please don’t.” Brian hurried to speak as he wrapped his arms around her waist and lowered her back into the couch. “You should recover first.” 

“But I…” she fought to get her thoughts straight. She wanted to be there. It was what she had wanted for so long and now she was fighting to leave. “I… Merry Christmas.” 

“I know Marie. You said that last night. I heard it. Merry Christmas to you too; from my family too. They thought it was quite a funny way of meeting you.” He chuckled widely. 

“Meeting? Oh god; I must have looked such a mess. I slipped, outside, it was icy and I slipped on the ice. Then my heel; after I slipped on the ice, my heel broke off and on the tissue; there was blood. It was my head… the blood on the tissue. I mean the blood was from my head, on the tissue. But my bag and the presents. I have presents; the two that I had…” It took Marie a while to realise the grin on Brian’s face as she talked complete and utter nonsense. 

“You looked beautiful Marie.” 

Marie froze. 

“I? I..?”

Christmas is nigh... (2)

Following on from Christmas is nigh (1):

I wish… this Christmas 

The road shiny with ice it invited the already nervous and erratic steps of Marie to become off-balance and with the thought of his eyes gazing down at her with love she felt her legs slip away from her and with a single yelp; grasping her bag with her life she felt her head smack against the pavement and her side ram into the floor. It’s a sign. It must be a sign. The same thought repeated itself over and over in her throbbing head. She heaved herself up and supported her aching cold body on her elbows. Gathering the presents she felt something wet on her palm. Great, now I’ll have mud on me too when I see him; how flattering. Searching frantically in her handbag, praying nothing was falling out in the dark of the night that she might still need, she felt the same wet in the nape of her neck. Finally Marie grabbed the pack of tissues and wiped her hands; yet it wasn’t mud. The warm on the back of her neck was a thick red colour on the tissue and slowly Marie felt the wooziness that accompanied the blood smeared on her palm and the tissue. Oh dear, well now at least you have a reason to knock on his door; an ice-breaker to say the least. 

Marie stared down the road she knew she had to go.  Brushing her trousers down with the flat of her hands that were all sorts of grubby she carefully picked herself up. As she attempted her first step on shaky, cold legs her weight plummeted to the floor again. Inspecting herself she realised why; her lovely shoes that had already caused her so much trouble had lost a heel. Great, that’s it. I’ve had it. She unzipped both boots and stood up again. Buttoning her coat to the top and sniffing her nose she once again clutched her bag and the presents under one arm and the boots in her hand. 7:45 read the display of her phone. She had sent him a text message a few days previously and had received no reply. With a great sigh of fear, nerves and encouragement she crossed the road. The cold felt damp on the soles of her sock-clad feet. I must look so ridiculous. She could see the light on in one house only on the entire street. That must be his. If it isn’t number 3 I’ll… what will I do? She ignored the thought and licked her lips. It was so cold out. It was number 3; she could see his car in the drive. She crossed the lawn quietly; almost creeping. She lured through the passenger seat window as if not sure whether it was his car. But there was Henry the frog; squished in-between the seats. He was home. A deep dark hole gaped open in her stomach. She felt queasy again. Henry the frog seemed to have crawled into her throat as she struggled to swallow. 

What were you going to say when he opens the door? What if it isn’t him that opens the door? What if it’s his girlfriend? You can’t say it’s the wrong house; there are no other people at home in the neighbourhood. It’s the wrong road; that’s what you’ll say. Or no-you’ll ask whether he’s home. You just want to wish a merry Christmas and return something of his. That’s all. You’re not asking for his hand in marriage; nothing of the sort. Now pull yourself together and get on with it. 

As Marie reached for the doorbell she felt a wave of nausea spread through her head. She heard it ring inside and footsteps come to the door. As the door opened her heart dropped as she saw his eyes and then it went black. She felt his arms around her ribcage as her head lolled. Then everything was dark.

Christmas is nigh... (1)

The days seem to be flying by at the speed of light. Wasn't it November a couple of days ago? And now it's almost Christmas? Oh dear... Luckily almost all the presents are packed and we're set to go. But before we do so, here's a story I wrote quite a few years back about love, christmas and in general what we wish for. I'm gonna have to split it up as it's rather long but I hope you enjoy it anyhow. I called it: 

I wish… this Christmas

It had been a good two years since she’d last been in England and many of the memories had not been too joyous. This year, however, she wasn’t about to let it get to her. She had spent long enough working through her past and as the sweet words of ‘Silent Night’ sung in her ears she felt a wave of courage and boldness. Tonight she was going to find out whether the love in her heart was worthy of someone as good as him. 

The lights glistened in the white of the snow that perched silently on streets and pavements. Rainbows of colour spread a Christmas feeling throughout the city and despite the stress and rush of buying and finding there were smiles all around. In the trees rows and rows of lights beckoned for song and although Marie had always been a Christmas-lover and fond of anything that yelled for seasonal cheer; tonight she wasn’t going to be singing songs or smiling too soon. At least that was the fear that had nestled into the pit of her stomach since she’d stepped off the plane. 

Her stomach jolted; almost; almost she’d lost her balance for the fourth time. If only she hadn’t worn those boots that despite looking great had made her slip countless times on the ice. Slow down and take it easy; he’s not going anywhere; she told herself; over and over. Marie wasn’t even sure whether he’d be home on Christmas Eve. Surely he would have gone to his parents for the season? Determined she clutched the two carefully wrapped presents that had dug themselves into her cold fingers. She sniffed as the icy wind blurred her already teary eyes. It was somewhere here, she thought, racking her memory for the way to the house. She uncrumpled the piece of paper with the address on it. 3: that was the number of the house. She had written it so many times on so many letters that she knew he must have received but probably thrown away. 

Marie’s heels clicked and clacked on the cobbled stones. She’d always loved the cosiness of the colloquial England she had grown to know. The little town positively buzzed with a warm Christmas cheer and as she tried desperately not to slip on the ice her mind raced through countless memories of him. How much she would like to spend Christmas strolling around this town filled with children’s smiles and stretch up to kiss him in the middle of the street; savouring every minute as the snow flakes tickled her nose and planted themselves on his eyelashes; framing those deep, loving blue eyes with their delicate meaning. 

A car raced by. She stopped. What am I doing? He won’t want to see you. He has a girlfriend; he’s probably not home. You’ve come all this way and you’re probably just going to hurt yourself. Turn around. Walk away while you can. Just go. Yet her feet kept going. 

Listen to more on my youtube page:

Love to Live

What do we live for? 

Not to die, not to be unhappy; so to live? 

We live to live? 

We live to be happy? 

We're happy to live? 

We live to love? 

We love to live? 

We live to love life or love? 

We live for memories of a happy life. 

We won't ever achieve anything other than nostalgic post-modernity. 

A face, a smile, words, moments. 

Even in the present a reminder of the past. 

I live to love the life that I live. 

It's only love I could live for. 

And so this life I have to love. 

There is no way to live. 

But there is a way to love. 

Love like you live; entirely.

"When I saw you I fell in love. And you smiled because you knew."
Arrigo Boito

English Man in New York

Christmas Christmas Christmas

So, after a month of searching high and low I have managed to fill 24 (!) bags with prezzies for my man. My kind of advents-calendar. Not the chocolate kind or where you get stupid plastic toys that noone needs. I invested time, thought and a pocket full of love (and also a bit of money ofcourse). I believe I have twenty-four presents that are a mix of sexy, useful, funny, delightful, agreeable, generous and attractive. So I look forward to every morning...

His face this morning, needless to say, was priceless. Last week we had talked about calendars for Xmas and he told me his mum used to craft and fill them herself with titbits: bit of money, sweets etc. Whilst he told me I tried so hard not to smile as I had already started filling the bags so long ago. Thank goodness I had my hot, spicy soup to accidentally choke on the stop myself laughing!

And the last week had been a back and forth with things he said he needed that I managed to postpone til today and obviously rearranged the contents of the bags to accommodate his wishes!

Obviously I can't tell you what is in the bags; he might read this too. But I can tell you this much: I think he will like every single one of those presents ;)

Get into the Christmas spirit with my fave at the moment: Michael Bublé:

Nan's Crackerjack Café and Milkshakes (2)

The last titbit of this chapter. I may consider not letting on too much about my book from now, so that you will be keen to buy it when/if it gets published ;)

“Riza! Hey! Wow! What’s up? Good news?” Lily spluttered and muffled through Riza’s coat and hair. “The BEST news!” Riza beamed as she stepped back and smiled at Lily. “But I’ll tell you when Natty is here.” She tore off her coat and threw it over one of the chairs. Riza was wearing a typically colourful and wonderful outfit with all shades of purple and pink. Lily loved Riza to pieces. They had met at University and had since been inseparable: soul mates tied at the waist. Except for the time after Stuart. But Stuart was a long story and Lily was never in the mood to tell it. After Stuart, Lily had spent a while in Berlin. She had always wanted to visit her roots in Germany and Berlin had been a great city. But she had missed Riza and Natty and her quaint English village life (well, it wasn’t that quaint but Lily loved wellies, English gentlemen and tea and scones and that all counted as quaint for Lily) and so she had returned. 

Riza was already diving into a full-blown story about her love life as they both saw Natty fighting her way through the crowd. “Alright? Do you mind movin’ a bit, love? This place is big enough for the both of us!” Ah yes, Natty loved to brawl. Lily and Natty had met at the Hard Rock Café on a particularly rocky night with goths, punks and all sorts. Natty was off her face drunk and had complimented Lily on her totally out of place head to toe white outfit amongst a sea of black leather and PVC (and the fact that Lily was not wearing a bra!). They had swapped numbers and been close ever since. 

“Hello Lovelies. God it’s full in here today: nightmare! And d’ya think I’d find a parking place when I’m wearing my Miu Miu’s and it’s bleeding knee deep in snow out there. Of course not! I had to walk ten minutes from the car. What a sodding winter!”
And so the afternoon with the ladies began.