Monday 31 January 2000

Pic of the day: Got the paper issue of Psychology Today.

I had planned otherwise, but I did get very little sleep last night. I overslept dramatically, but was woken by the always alert Staffman calling, so I still got well less than a nights sleep. Despite this, or perhaps because of it, I had this strange feeling. That I was just waking up from a long, hazy dream (which I was) and that the last few days were like a dream. I felt that I was somehow looking differently at things now. Do you recognize that feeling? It generally goes along with the "oh no did I really do that" feeling. :)

Strangely enough, I did not grow seriously sleepy at 2 PM at work today. Probably because I came so late, but on the other hand I had had little sleep. After closing time at work I went out and bought a large bottle of Pepsi (with sugar) and Cheez Doodles. Carbs! Gotta love them. They make me happy. Then again, that does not take much.

Earlier today I fantasized about writing an essay today, about how and (not least) why religions have tried (with debatable success) to chain and control human sexuality. It actually all comes together and, well, I guess I do have some experience in religion controlling human sexuality. Quite apart from my keen interest in ancient cultures. But then I thought: "Do the people who come here, want to read stuff like that?" Well, it's hard to say; you people seem to be a bright lot, intelligent and inquisitive. But well, this was sort of very narrow. Plus, to be honest, I spent a lot of my day e-mailing and there simply is no time left for anything except fluff...

Today I still haven't got my tax return form in the mail. ("Sjølvmelding" in my native tongue, meaning self-report. It beats some of the other names I have heard for it.) Today is January 31st, and until a year ago this was the day when most people had to return their tax forms here in Norway. It was a nightmare for the common man, who firstly was not familiar with bureaucratic forms, and secondly hated to pay this much tax. (Actually we are slightly below the median in total taxes, compared to Europe. But still quite a bit above the USA. Then again, our taxes include mandatory pensions funding and mandatory health care funding. Stuff that Americans have to pay elsewhere, unless they plan to jump off a bridge when they get old and sick. But as I have stated before, the illusion that you do it by your own free will makes people happy to pay what they otherwise would try to avoid. Funny animals.)

Well, thanks to the advances in computer technology, most Norwegian no longer need to fill in a self-report. Common pensioneers and wage earners get a list of their supposed taxables in early April, then post it with any corrections before the end of that month. Cheap, easy. In fact, those with little or no changes can post it on the Net. I have had to fill in the old one last year too, because I still had a little income from the software adventure of the previous ten years. Now it is all in the past (and in time before Y2K, which it was not compatible with). So I intend to write the local tax office and tell them to send me the simplified tax return form instead.

The local tax office does not have an e-mail address. The various people who work there have, but the actual office does not. *Groan!* This is the year 2000. And I may still have to use an envelope to get across a minor message to the local tax office. (Of course I could use the telephone, but then I would not be able to prove that I had contacted them, if they forgot about it all.)

Got the paper issue of Psychology Today. It features an article on shyness. This is a rather wide thing today, I see. "Shy people tend either to reveal information about themselves too quickly, or hold back and move too slowly." Yeah, baby! I am so shy, I show it all on the Net. (Well, almost. Heh.) "A disclosure process that moves too quickly - and computer anonymity removes the stigma of getting sexually explicit - doesn't just destroy courtship; it is a reliable sign of maladjustment."

You be the judge.