Notes from a small neuron

It's a kitten. Love me.

After much delay, caused by inefficient websites, not being in America and general mistrust by me, I managed to get ereader on my phone, and free ebooks to read. Limited selection till I find a new version of drop-a-book and nab some text files from Project Guttenberg, but I do now have Dr Jekyl and Mr Hyde, Little Women, Oliver Twist and most importantly The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, which I haven't read in, ouch, too many years (25?) and feel I want to read now given the sheer greatness of the author. Also, my brain is much smaller than it used to be and I think children's books are probably just about perfect for gentle reading. A nice little collection of childhood memories there, I'm on a big trip down memory lane today for some reason.

Huge tangent: why a trip down memory lane?

The wonder that is Facebook is causing me to undo the years of damage that my appalling skills of keeping in touch have ravaged upon my friendships. Facebook is strange, it's not like the other social networking sites. I had a mini-cull a few weeks ago and deleted all the "unreal" people that I don't actually know (probably after some hissy fit) and I'm completely unsearchable, so it's relatively "safe". Anyway, I have as my friends on there, my family, my closest friends, my internet only friends, my more distant relatives and increasingly, the friends I had lost altogether. Pretty much everyone I know apart from the ones that don't "do" Facebook. You see who's friends with who, and spot a familiar name and then off you go. Today I was accepted by a girl who was my closest friend when we were about 13. I haven't seen her since we were about 15 and she moved to Australia, and we haven't spoken in just about as long, just because we haven't. It got me to thinking how very strange it is how you can see someone every day and know everything about them, and then end up leading entirely different lives just like that. That can be poised on a precipice of depressing thoughts about how much more interesting everyone else's lives ended up, and I'm still here stagnating in the same stupid town, but I'm not going there. Still on Facebook, I did a couple of the inane quizzes about 70s/80s things. These are infuriating as they are compiled by the sort of person that compiles a quiz on Facebook, I think anyone can, so you get questions wrong that you know are right, just because the compiler was a moron.

He-man, Marathons, Top Deck... Do I remember who this was? Uh, yeah.

My first crush. I have about twenty minutes worth of memories of being at nursery and most of those are about the day the Green Cross Code Man came in to give us a talk on safety. I think it may have even been David Prowse himself which makes me feel quite giddy thinking about it. This may have been where my heightism came from: he's 6'7. Uh oh, giddy again. If only one of my nieces was here to say "my giddy aunt", it would be ever so apt.

(I believe he was also in some film or other that was quite well known but he's the Green Cross Code Man to me. Ok?)

Back on track: on the first page of Huckleberry Finn, Mark Twain says "Persons attempting to find a motive in this narrative will be prosecuted; persons attempting to find a moral in it will be banished; persons attempting to find a plot in it will be shot".

I actually love him. In a way. For a person that's been dead for nearly 100 years and entirely based on what he wrote. But still love.

I'm taking him/my phone to bed now. My cup overfloweth.