Back home.
I just got home about ten minutes ago from Germany, and I'm already on the computer. Addicted much?
On a completely different subject, I once again discovered that I worry too much. I won't bore you with the mundane details (because believe me, they are mundane, and certainly not something most people would spend literally hours worrying about), but that is what it comes down to in the end: I am obsessively, and seemingly hopelessly, paranoid about the tiniest, most unimportant details of life. Mostly they have to do with social situations, or relationships. I guess I am incurably inept in that department. For a second today, I actually considered getting one of those self-help books at Schiphol Airport, titled something along the lines of 'Basic Social Skills for Imbeciles' (worded more graciously), until I started worrying what people must think of me, looking at a book like that, and what's more, what they would think of me if I actually bought such a book. Needless to say, I immediately put the book back and proceeded to half-run to the opposite side of the store.
Also needless to say that the other people at the store probably didn't give a damn about what book I was looking at. They probably weren't paying any attention to me at all, at least not until my efforts to pretend not to have anything to do with the book. One thing about me is that I am at my most obvious when I trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. How fitting.
In the end, I got a book that does nothing to help my social skills, but instead probably did make the people sitting next to me on the plane from Amsterdam to Helsinki think I was crazy. I bought Bill Bryson's 'Notes from a Big Country', a collection of essays he wrote to be published as columns in... err... well, some British newspaper. Anyway, the point is that they are hilarious, and made me laugh out loud for the entire duration of the flight. Hence the other passengers thinking I was a little cookoo.
I don't have enough energy to write about my trip to Germany right now, since there is too much to tell and too many pictures to show, and it is now too late at night (or would I dare say, too early in the morning) to type it all. I will just leave that job for tomorrow.
On a completely different subject, I once again discovered that I worry too much. I won't bore you with the mundane details (because believe me, they are mundane, and certainly not something most people would spend literally hours worrying about), but that is what it comes down to in the end: I am obsessively, and seemingly hopelessly, paranoid about the tiniest, most unimportant details of life. Mostly they have to do with social situations, or relationships. I guess I am incurably inept in that department. For a second today, I actually considered getting one of those self-help books at Schiphol Airport, titled something along the lines of 'Basic Social Skills for Imbeciles' (worded more graciously), until I started worrying what people must think of me, looking at a book like that, and what's more, what they would think of me if I actually bought such a book. Needless to say, I immediately put the book back and proceeded to half-run to the opposite side of the store.
Also needless to say that the other people at the store probably didn't give a damn about what book I was looking at. They probably weren't paying any attention to me at all, at least not until my efforts to pretend not to have anything to do with the book. One thing about me is that I am at my most obvious when I trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. How fitting.
In the end, I got a book that does nothing to help my social skills, but instead probably did make the people sitting next to me on the plane from Amsterdam to Helsinki think I was crazy. I bought Bill Bryson's 'Notes from a Big Country', a collection of essays he wrote to be published as columns in... err... well, some British newspaper. Anyway, the point is that they are hilarious, and made me laugh out loud for the entire duration of the flight. Hence the other passengers thinking I was a little cookoo.
I don't have enough energy to write about my trip to Germany right now, since there is too much to tell and too many pictures to show, and it is now too late at night (or would I dare say, too early in the morning) to type it all. I will just leave that job for tomorrow.