Sun villakoirasi nimi oli Rin Tin Tin
Typerä piski joka murisi mulle
Hölmöksi tunsin minä itsenikin
Vaikka kaikesta halusin puhua sulle
Mä vain häntääni heilutin
The name of your poodle was Rin Tin Tin
A stupid dog who growled at me
I felt dumb myself
Even though I wanted to talk about everything with you
I just wagged my tail
-- Leevi and the Leavings: Rin Tin Tin
They have so many great songs. <3 The lyrics make up at least 50 % of all the awesomeness, though. I always find it fascinating whenever I see writing I don't understand at all or hear people trying to explain something in poor Finnish or English that their language is just as rich and expressive as mine and that the words that mean nothing to me are so much to them. I sometimes think what it would be like to suddenly be the only person who speaks Finnish. No books, no-one to speak with, having to be myself in a language completely different...
Finnish = <3
No-one should have to live with bi-polar depression. No-one. It's incredible how a person who feels worse than you've ever felt (and perhaps worse than you'll ever feel) tells you that he tries to think that everyone has their own problems to grapple with but somehow his problems just seem to be bigger than those of others... Gee, really? They are too! For most part they are at least. ...It's just incomprehensible and so, so unfair.
"Tu sais que la rose c'est toi. Peut-être n'ai-je pas su te soigner, mais je t'ai toujours trouvée jolie."
Went biking. Took the camera with me and ventured off to the general direction of an old dairy. I thought I'd take a few pics there, as it's a lovely old thing and I lament deeply not being able to afford buying it. :) Somewhere around the bridge I got distracted thinking about mushrooms, and headed for a near-by forest instead to see if there'd be any lingonberries or mushrooms left. I found one mushroom and four berries. And many discouraging holes in the moss masses suggesting that I was hopelessly late and way too close to the road. What was particularly curious about the whole trip was that the wind seemed to be against me 80% of the time. Apparently as I turned to go home, so turned the wind.
It feels like I've been doing a ton of things lately. I've been working at the café, once at a trotting course (washing dishes in the nordic championship race :D), organising the first boardgame evening (which was a spectacular failure, by the way) of the autumn for the café's program, seen a play, played badminton, attended Pasila-juomapeli-ilta (I had to leave early, still makes me a bit cranky thinking about it :/) and had lunch with an old classmate. It's somehow a bit difficult to... I don't know, to get into anything for real. There seem to be only a few fixed points in my life at the moment. 1. There's my family and my home... but even though I love them and living here I'm feeling more and more clearly that I should be on my own already, somewhere else. If I'll spend the 09-10 semester in Japan it'll be natural to move nearer to the uni once I get back... but until then it's sensible to stay here. It's good being here but let's face it, I'm a leech and it doesn't feel good. 2. M. Dear, steady, level-headed, colourful M in whom we trust. But who's available in very limited scale on the internet only. Yet it helps to know she's there somewhere and that I haven't invented her on my own.
University seems to have morphed into a new and unfamiliar shape since the emphasis of the studies shifted from English to French. It's creepy how it's the same, coffee room and the libraries, the campus buildings and cafeterias and yet it has definitely changed. English was fun, relatively easy, tangible. French is difficult, thus often frustrating and makes me feel I've a wooden leg. My pace down the French lane clonks on every step and every clank asks What are you doing here?
It's hard to take root and it's equally hard to remain unrooted.
Such is life. :)
I've been defeated by a game console. It is quite evident, is it not, how important you are to a person when you come after a game console in the priorities. I tried to boost my spirits by renting a film and eating ice cream. It worked rather well, except that Devil Wears Prada (which was advertised to me by someone rather enthusiastically) turned out to be a mesozoic version of Ugly Betty, so it felt as if I'd seen it all aldready. Plus there were no cute guys! Or maybe one, but he was as smug as he was good-looking and had maybe five lines altogether...? Anyhow, Meryl Streep & co got me through of another Why-Feelings-Aren't-Rational?! meets And-How-Does-Maiju-Always-Make-Me-Look-Utterly-Ridiculous-And-I-Let-Her havoc, so all in all it was worth 3,50€.
My wrists ache a bit. The left one more than the right one. I'm getting a bit panicky because the left wrist hurts sometimes when I play the piano. I love playing the piano! I need my wrists! For playing, for writing, for knitting... It's probably nothing that couldn't be fixed... It's just that mum stopped knitting years ago because her wrists got cranky and junctures aren't the forté of our family's anatomy, so to speak. I feel a bit silly for panicking over my piano playing because it doesn't sound like much but I've reached the conclusion that it doesn't need to sound like much if it's enough for me. And it is. I might have been lonely but I was never alone. My acoustic guitar was always my friend. [translation mine] I play a bit every day and it's... I don't know what it is but I like that part of my life. (And still on a medical note: I think my coccyx is fractured. How embarrassing ailment. I'd think it cracked when I was skiing 18 months ago. To quote Roxette: every time I seem to fall in love(although in my case this applies also to skiing, apparently) crash, boom, bang! ... That's a good song.
I donated blood! Yay! It wasn't even that horrible. I've a rather low blood-pressure and after hearing from a pharmacy woman that she (who also has a low blood-pressure) felt queasy nearly a week after donating I was worried the same would happen to me. Plus I'm a bit squeamish about needles. (Last time they took a blood test I stared at the needle because I thought I couldn't be so irrationally stupid as to feel sick. It turned out I was very much irrationally stupid enough to feel just that. I was ok when I was sitting. The nurse asked if I felt dizzy. I said no. I got up. I very much felt dizzy. I walked out of the room and slumped on the first bench behind a corner and lifted my feet up. Classy. -.-) It felt odd. The tube from my vein to the bag touched my arm and it was really weird to feel the warmth radiating from my own blood. Like it would have been someone else's. I've thought to start taking part to our student organisation thingy, we could put up a campaign and everything. People go donate blood, in a group or on their own when they find the time, and can use the end of their "receipt" as a lottery ticket -- the student organisation could provide a small prize or something... whoa, this is a great idea. Even if I say so myself. ... As usual. ;-)
I'm getting old and tired. I'll abuse the other languages I'm supposed to speak again next time. Of the three (four), English walks away from me with the smallest bruises.
Mum's been working over-time the whole week. Comes home between seven and eight. She's a really diligent person: for years now she has stayed at work 15 minutes after the regular hours are over. And every now and then she keeps working longer than those 15 minutes. She is the only lawyer in the firm and it would seem that there's work for 1,5 lawyers: too much for one, too little for two. And mum herself seems to believe that her workload, which is overflowing her regular hours, it would seem, isn't too big. No, she's just so "ineffective and incompetent". It really bugs me. Then she comes home and is tired and cranky and unhappy with herself and doesn't even feel good for getting something strenuous done because there are heaps and heaps of stuff waiting when she gets back to work! And when I point out that it can't go on like this, she starts waving her arms and wondering why no-one says anything when dad does long days but a humongous hullabaloo starts when she's working late. (Maybe because most of his evening activities exist because he's decided to take care of some of the trade union(?) stuff and it will be over in a year? And maybe because his working over-time doesn't make him feel bad about himself?) Argh. ARGH, say I.
They opened a new Ikea near here. That bugs me too. Yes, yes, nice furniture for affordable prices. Too affordable, perhaps? There was another article about how many of their products lack the basic information concerning the production: where, how, what material(s). Accusations of child labour. Same old, same old. While rainforests fall and kids do ten hour shifts with a ridiculous pay, we clap our hands because we can now buy as much Coke as we can drink and a cute green coffee table for 14,50€.
Mum is unhappy. Ansa is unhappy (I made her buns dry. HAH! They don't turn into crackers because I put them in a basket for 1,5 hours and lifted the cloth that was on them). Miss Finland is unhappy (They said she is fat.) The prime minister is unhappy. The opposition is unhappy. Mr. Tsvangirai in Zimbabwe is unhappy. And I'm not exactly bouncy either.
At least M and J are coming home soon so I get to see them again -- finally. The exam is next week, too, so that will be over for another ten months soon enough.