Why I'm on the Facebook

I've long resisted signing up to the massive social networking sites MySpace and Facebook. MySpace, especially, in that its members are often the loud prattish kids that I would not tolerate in real life and the pages look like Geocities homepages from 1998 have come back to haunt us.

I certainly had concerns about future employers looking at my personal history, which I'm not particularly keen on. I already have a blog and I already have a place to share my photos. So why bother?

Mostly, because my address book is always out of date, and I am notorious for not keeping in contact with people. That's one of the main reasons for this blog, by the way. This way, I don't feel so guilty for not spending massive amounts of time sending e-mail to everyone.

A lot of my friends are or were at university, so I've signed up to the Facebook. It's popular enough to count as an epidemic, as far as I can tell. I've long suspected that it's addictive, and I'm now discovering the awful truth.

Discovering old friends. The status updates. The wall-writing. The silly groups. Oh my.

Before long, I'll be a horrible Facebook junkie and I'll be forced to close my account like one chap described in the Guardian.

The clock keeps ticking

Living in the student residence has made all the difference. I've had a constant expectation of social interaction, which means that I've spent very little time on personal pursuits like reading or software projects. I've had no convenient Internet or phone access, which means that I've had relatively little contact with the world outside Berlin. It also means that job-seeking is a major chore. To top it all off, the sheer cost of this room has put a big dent in my savings.

My original plan included looking into the work situation here, finding nothing, and returning to London. That might still happen, but it's a bit more complex now.

I've enjoyed learning the language, and going back to an English-speaking country to work seems too comfortable. On the other hand, my German is still at a relatively basic level: it's entirely possible that working in a German office will push straight through enjoyably challenging and right into frustratingly difficult.

To top it off, I'm starting to feel what could be described as homesickness. I'd like to visit good old New Zealand, eat some tasty food and catch up with friends and family. At the same time, I don't think I'm ready to come home for good. If living in an English-speaking country is too comfortable, I think I need a new category for living in the country I grew up in. Then again, challenges come from all kinds of sources – not just work or language.—

The Clash understand

My return flight is scheduled for this Sunday, but I've got to decide whether to take it. I'm currently unemployed, and after school finishes next week I'll be homeless. The choice should be easy, right?

Yeah, it should be. But it isn't.

It's been a fantastic couple of months. Let me tell you, though, it feels like much more. They say time goes faster as we get older; I reckon it's more to do with how we spend our time. Working long hours was certainly rewarding in its own way, but I sometimes found the months flitting by as though they were cars passing on the street.

My life has changed again, pretty drastically, which is always a bit un-nerving. At the same time, I know that I've changed before and I'll change again. In some respects I feel like I'm living life backwards: I've gone from running my own business, to consulting, to working for a big company to working for a small company. Now I'm a poor student, living a relatively care-free life. What comes next? I don't know.

Sick reunion

Filthy London has disgusting diseases, and I've caught one. I've been battling this one for about four or five days now, but it's almost gone. Thank you, Lemsip—you tasty medicated beverage, you. And of course, a huge shout-out to the Monkey for looking after the snivelling wretch on her doorstep and feeding it chicken soup and Advil.

My boss reckons that it's worth stocking up on food, water and guns for the impending virus outbreak. He also stabbed himself in the face with a baguette so hard that it made enough bloody marks to scare a gas station attendant into stunned silence.

Holidays are very soon! I may have a white Christmas after all—it snows in Sweden, right?