Sinking Violet

Take That

2011-11-26T07:05:00.001+02:00

My greatest fear is we're just wasting tears
Wasting several years, still being round here
My greatest fear is maybe you will notice
I'm not what you wanted after all these years

But I, I've got a very big hope for us
I'm gonna keep looking up for us
It's been a difficult year
And I, I still wanna make love with you
So where do we go from here?
What do you want from me?
What do you want from me?
I, I still think I belong with you,
I still wanna belong to you
So what do you want from me
What do you want from me now?

Your greatest fear is we're not getting wiser,
We're not wise at all
It's getting harder, harder to recover
From the night before, when you turn me on
But I, I like to think of us moving on
I like to think of us getting on
So answer me where do we go from here,
Where do we go?

Because I, I still wanna get old with you
I still want us to grow
What do you want from me?
What do you want from me?
I, I still think I'm in love with you
I still feel you're the one
So what do you want from me,
What do you want from me now?

Has it crossed your mind we might already know?
If we only let it go?

Yeah I, I still wanna have sex with you
I still wanna go out with you
So what do you want from me?
What do you want from me?
I, I think some days we're beautiful
I think some days we're not
So what do you want from me?
What do you want from me now?

Let's make it positive
What do you want from me?
What do you want from me now?
We're making progress here, so where shall we go?
What do you want from me?
What do you want from me now?

Digging a hole

2011-11-21T15:56:00.001+02:00

"Don’t dig a foundation where you don’t plan to build a house."

Tumultus

2011-11-21T09:40:00.001+02:00

She reads the signs.
Bins the good ones and
hangs on to the bad ones.

She is numb and aching all over at the same time.

This place is no good.
That place is worse and
the third place is inaccessible.
Out of reach.
Close but far.
The door remains shut.

She is out of control.
Shaken down to the core.
Bouncing from one feeling to the next.
Craving for the calm and quiet she once felt.

Easy

2011-11-11T15:35:00.001+02:00

"Me, difficult? No... I just know what I want."

A perfectly good thing

2011-11-08T14:43:00.000+02:00

"How does it feel like?"

"It's like throwing paint on a painting by Picasso."

"It's like adding salt to a dessert at the Fat Duck."

"It's like burning a pile of cash."

"It's like ripping apart a brand new Karen Millen dress."

"It's like travelling all the way to the Maldives and never leaving the hotel room."

"It's like buying a bottle of Château Latour and using it to make beef bourguignon."
"It's like throwing in a towel when you are winning."
"It's like abandoning a newly found treasure that you have been searching all your life."

"It feels like having to ruin a perfectly good thing."

Self-sufficient

2011-11-07T14:53:00.001+02:00

She needs no one.
Not her parents, not her siblings, not her friends and most certainly not the man she has shared her life and home with for the past few years.

She is self-sufficient.
A bit of a freak of nature in fact, for humans - her being the exception of course - have a universal need to belong and be cared for.
But she is beyond all that (and damned proud about it too!), beyond bonding, belonging, attachment, love, emotional support and fear of losing someone.
"How can you fear losing someone you didn't want or need in the first place?"
She needs no one.

Her relationship with him is nothing but an arrangement.
Something for now.
"For as long as it feels good", she thinks and doesn't understand why he makes such a big fuss about it.
She does not understand even though she knows that a belief in our partner's commitment forms the basis of trust in a relationship.
She needs no trust.
She needs no commitment.
Where was he to go anyway?

"I don't know if I want to be with you in the future, I can not make any promises", she tells him.
"A relationship is not an intrinsic value you see", she concludes, looking at him gently.
Yes, she is honest and honesty is important to him. For as long as she is honest, she is doing nothing wrong.
"Take me as I am. Take it or leave it, your choice."

If she was a man, she'd be considered a true gentleman.
Honourable and well-mannered.
And if he was to decide he no longer can take the uncertainty and feelings of unimportance, she would naturally want to stay friends with him.
She'd be like a parent proudly waving of her child about to jump off a cliff.
"If that is what you really want to do honey! Go for it! Jump! Farewell! Bye bye!"

She would graciously give him time to get his things sorted, she would help him pack and send him on his way. Practical matters are easy to deal with, and breaking up would be a practical matter to her, not an emotional one.
"Good bye! Be well. See you later. No hard feelings", she would say and smoothly move forward with her life.

She wants the world to be her oyster. All options open.
And although she is happy with him, quite fond of him even, he could never give her all that she wants.
He would be a hinderance, an impediment, a handicap and an obstruction.

She looks herself from the mirror and smiles satisfied.
"I'm worthy. I am important. I am great, if not perfect, and I need no one."

The same size

2011-08-09T19:42:00.003+03:00

"I know you are not interested, but I'll show these ultrasound pictures to you anyway", she said.

"The baby is probably a boy and 18 centimetres long."

"The same size than a large penis then", I replied.

Nearly perfect

2011-06-20T10:15:00.001+03:00

"You have perfect legs and you're nearly perfect".

Supposedly.

Admittedly.

The average

2011-06-18T10:49:00.002+03:00

"You look like twenty-five year old, but talk like forty-five year old."

Bride of Frankenstein

2011-05-29T21:24:00.004+03:00

"... and if I did manage to change her - to mould her to my liking - and make her perfect, then would she hate me?" he asked.

"I think that instead of asking 'Would she hate me?' you should ask yourself 'Would I hate her?' " , she replied.

Touché

2011-04-07T22:57:00.000+03:00

"So how does it feel to be a puma?"

"By the time I get to be that age, you're no longer a catch!"

Provocation

2011-04-04T21:02:00.003+03:00

"This Barolo sure is a fine wine. Mmm, mmm, mmm... Such a pity you're not here to share it with me!"

Starting a relationship

2011-04-03T20:33:00.002+03:00

"I go out and get drunk and in the morning, when I wake up next to a woman, I look at her, and if she's all right and looks good, I'll get into a relationship with her."

As simple as that.

Temptation

2011-03-20T20:28:00.001+02:00

The only trouble with resisting temptation is that you may not get another chance.

Pathological liar?

2011-03-19T18:30:00.003+02:00

Gravedigger.

Black-belter in hapkido.

Jazz trumpeter.

Acrobat.

Pilot.

Pet peeves: Part 13 (Drinking bottles... when one does need one)

2011-03-16T22:24:00.010+02:00

Spring time.

New life.

New running shoes, socks, running tights & hoodie and a drinking bottle.

Colour-coordinated.

Two three kilometre runs.

Sips from the brand new drinking bottle.

Sore muscles.

Sigh.

Maybe next spring...

---

Big hair, fake tan and eyelash extensions.

Two minutes on the cross-trainer and a sip from the drinking bottle.

---

Big babies with nursing bottles.

“Look at you, you madman! Screaming you are thirsty and dying in a desert, when all around you there is nothing but water!”
- Kabir

Oh to be normal - part one

2011-03-11T08:08:00.003+02:00

A mother and father and

a one and a half siblings.

Two sets of grandparents.

Cute family dog and a hamster called Minnie.

Childhood in a town house.

Summer cottage.

Skiing holidays in Sweden and Austria.

Summer holidays in Italy and Greece.

Mother baking cookies for the school fundraising event and

birthday cakes with strawberry and cream.

Going to buy your first bra with mother.

Language school in Brighton.

Senior ball and the whole caboodle.

And she finally stopped playing their song, when she realised she was dancing alone

2011-03-10T22:09:00.008+02:00

It's not like she ever really wanted to get married.

It's not like she ever dreamt about it.

So why is it, that browsing through photos of brides in their wedding gowns makes her want to cry her pretty eyes out?

Maybe it's because she feels she is not one of those people who have 'big days'.

Maybe it's because she feels no one will ever want her to be their bride.

Maybe it's because she feels this is yet another thing she'll be left out of.

An outsider.

The odd one out.

All right, but not quite good enough.

Alone.

Maybe she should control herself.

Maybe she should get a grip.

Maybe she should stop wallowing in self-pity.

Self-contained.

Complete.

All right and unattached.

Poised.

All right.

The balance of one weekend

2011-03-06T18:57:00.002+02:00

The back head of Angela Merkel.

Anti-Berlusconi protesters.

An adequate dinner in excellent company.

One glass of Sauternes.

Snowfall and spring sunshine.

Walking on ice.

Whitefish baked in a salt crust.

Storage clear-out and throwing away three black waste bags of junk.

Chicken mole.

New shoes (black Camper leather boots and pewter Hunter wellies).

Hurling a bucket full of floor soap water.

I guess you could call it a downside

2011-02-19T11:04:00.002+02:00

The only problem with dating a younger man, is that you'll also have to put up with those friends of his who are as deep as a petri dish and as mature as fromage frais.

Wannabe

2011-02-16T09:55:00.002+02:00

She's so cool that she has a Facebook (fan) Page instead of a normal profile.

Last resort

2011-01-21T14:17:00.003+02:00

A woman talking on her mobile phone in the gym locker room:

" 'Let's make a baby then, if nothing else works.' I've been trying to sell the idea to him, but he says not yet."

Slacker on a comfy couch

2011-01-19T19:02:00.002+02:00

Some people are so frigging socially active and energetic, that just thinking about them makes me exhausted.

It ain't over until...

2011-01-03T17:35:00.003+02:00

A conversation in a nightclub:

"No, me and her are no longer together", the thirty-something man with eyelashes like a cow said.

"We were together for 15 years, but broke up this autumn. We share the custody of our two children and remain good friends. I met her (talking about a young woman powdering her nose in the toilet) not long after breaking up with my ex and I can't believe my luck! Can you imagine meeting someone and falling in love again at our age?!"

And how old were you again? 95?

Oh bother

2011-01-02T22:05:00.002+02:00

1+1 on 1.1.11 didn't quite happen.

Having trouble understanding or just assuming too much?

2010-12-31T00:05:00.003+02:00

Woman number 1: "I have two children. And what about you? Do you have any?"

Woman number 2: "No I don't, and I don't want any."

Woman number 1: "Oh, have you been diagnosed with something?"

Woman number 2: "No, I just don't want children."

Housewife

2010-12-29T22:24:00.004+02:00

"I like Barolos, but I prefer Amarones."

Well of course you do darling. And your husband pays.

Pays for your Amarones,

silk sheets and pyjamas,

holidays in Thailand and Chamonix,

gel nails,

Princess cakes and

Pura Lopez shoes.

All that luxury and days of leisure, yet somehow you always seem disoriented and discontented.

Right values

2010-12-28T18:56:00.004+02:00

"We are so happy about our baby. Almost all of our friends have children as well. That tells that we and our friends have the right values in life", says the man sitting next to his wife who gave birth on Christmas Day.

Is that so?

Externalisation

2010-12-03T18:27:00.011+02:00

I listened to her speaking about the perils of a relationship: waiting for someone to text you for days and days, being in constant agony and never being able to just think about yourself.

"But now, now! I can eat any candy I want from the bowl of life!" she concluded.

"Hang on a moment!" I thought

to myself.

"That doesn't sound like an objective view of relationships. And is this the same person who just few months ago enthusiastically praised the merits of her 'adequate if not brilliant' relationship? A relationship, which subsequently ended few weeks ago."

And then it came to me.

One of the functions of an attitude: externalisation.

Externalisation is to do with how we match our inner, unconscious motives with what is going on around us, and it allows us to externalise our inner fears and anxieties. And someone who has an inner fear of perhaps never meeting anyone again, might manifest that fear in a cynical attitude towards relationships in general.

...but I didn't tell her this. Honesty is overrated.

In a bus

2010-12-01T11:20:00.003+02:00

Sitting in a bus this morning.
Feeling ridiculously happy.
Giddy.
Fluttering tummy.

Brushing aside the "truth" in the Finnish proverb:
"Kell' onni on, se onnen kätkeköön."
(If you are happy, hide it ... or something will come and take your happiness away...)

Forgiveness

2010-11-28T19:41:00.004+02:00

"I want to sort things out with my ex."

"But I am not ready to forgive her", he said.

What makes you think she wants (or needs) your forgiveness, you silly boy?

Standpoints

2010-11-28T12:42:00.002+02:00

"You weren't very drunk when coming home last night", she pointed out.

"Yes I was, and I think I still am", he replied.

Four guys and a Saturday night

2010-11-28T08:52:00.002+02:00

Xbox.

Football games.

Tittle-tattle.

Beer.

Sauna.

Chit-chat.

And no one craves for something deeper?

Sad

2010-11-27T19:15:00.000+02:00

They've been together for a long time, and for a while now, she has been longing for a child with him.

"I'm not ready yet" , he says.

She is in her mid-thirties and he's a few years older.

Not ready yet?

She tells about life's little pleasures (delicious cheese platter and a glass of wine) and her Saturday night in Facebook status, and I can't help but wondering...

What stops her from refusing to settle for a life with a wavering wimp?

Wrinkle stamp

2010-11-05T10:14:00.007+02:00

"Have you been thinking about ageing", I asked from my thirty-something male friends is a bar.

"No, no, I never think about it", answered one of them.

"Me neither", said the other one.

Silence.

And then.

"Well... actually... I've noticed these lines on my forehead."

"Yes! Me too. They seemed to have appeared almost overnight."

And later.

"I had a birthday just the other week and my colleagues were very surprised to hear I was above thirty."

"Quite right. You don't look a day older than twentyseven! As a matter a fact, none of us looks our age!"

Comforting.

Reassuring.

Single-gender parties

2010-11-04T21:18:00.001+02:00

What's the point of intentional single-gender parties?

Am I a woman first and an individual second?

Whiskey nights.

Poker nights.

Beer tasting nights.

Game nights.

Match nights.

Sauna nights.

"Let's go back to the cave" nights...

The highway salute

2010-11-03T21:55:00.002+02:00

What I learned today:

There's probably been a time in everyone's life when flipping the bird would have required two hands.

Meaning

2010-10-16T23:17:00.003+03:00

If a man buys a drink for a woman he has just met in a nightclub, what does it mean?

Nothing?

Something?

Anything?

Emotional incontinence

2010-09-23T20:14:00.001+03:00

Learnt a new term today: emotional incontinence.

Next goal: use it in a sentence.

I'd like it to be you

2010-09-13T08:23:00.002+03:00

I'd like it to be you,

but if it is not you,

then I can't help but thinking about it,

about who is it,

and where are they,

and what are they like.

Sex

2010-09-08T20:39:00.004+03:00

"It's a bit like ordering food at your favourite Chinese restaurant", he said.

"You're fine with that lemon chicken most of the time, but every once and a while you'd like a stuffed flamingo".

What is she?

2010-09-04T01:29:00.009+03:00

She gets into trouble at work, where her employer suspects her of taking drugs and insists on a drug test.

She goes riding and on her way back home she is stopped by a police who give her a breathalyzer test. Followed by a lollipop. A lollipop drug test.

She goes to her local off licence and the sales assistant tells her they don't sell to people under the influence. She tells the assistant she came by car. "We should call the police then", replies the sales assistant and she starts bawling.

The question that pops into my mind is: if she is not drunk and/or on drugs, then what is she?

Some children

2010-08-22T07:22:00.003+03:00

When she sat there observing a bunch of twenty-somethings, she could not help but thinking that some children should go home early.

A group of excitable young men listened to "black music" and sang along to Gansta's Paradise like it was 1995. They also found time for n-word this and n-word that, and a couple of "you're are a homo!" for good measure.

Yes, it was well past their bedtime.

A man without decision can never be said to belong to himself

2010-08-16T23:16:00.009+03:00

All those people afraid of making decisions.

Wanting what they haven't had,

getting it,

and realising they had already had what they wanted to have.

In the first place.

All these people not afraid of commitment.

Knowing what they want,

experiencing it,

and seeing that they are in the right place.

At the right time.

All those people terrified of making the wrong decision.

Avoiding making it in every which way,

managing it,

and understanding they've ended up where they're at willy-nilly.

Making the decision by not making it.

All these people confident with themselves and their decisions.

Trusting other people,

knowing their values,

and feeling sad for those people.

Hoping they'd see their choices as well.

Misfortune

2010-08-15T12:56:00.001+03:00

"I only know that I love you."

"That's your misfortune."

Unabashed

2010-08-13T16:05:00.002+03:00

At first I noticed the elderly lady and the look on her face: slight amazement and carelessly concealed disapproval.

Then I tracked her gaze to a large ebony skinned lady breastfeeding her baby, unabashed, in a crowded metro carriage.

Subtle. Or not.

2010-08-11T22:14:00.002+03:00

"Do you think I'm beautiful?"

"Well, beauty is in the eye of the beholder, so if you feel you are beautiful, then you are".

Long distance

2010-08-09T21:45:00.003+03:00

She wakes up.

He goes to sleep.

She works.

He sleeps.

She goes home.

He wakes up.

She's at the gym.

He's busy with training.

She retires to bed.

He has dinner.

She dreams.

He goes for a beer.

She wakes up.

He goes to sleep.

Random relationship statuses - forgive, forget, endure and stick out

2010-08-09T20:14:00.005+03:00

There's a woman, eight months pregnant, whose husband of seven years has just told her he is in love with another woman and leaving her.

There's a woman, an alien in this land, whose husband has just told her he wants a divorce and without marriage she has no right to remain in this country she thinks of as her home.

There's a woman who wants a child so bad that she is willing to put up with a man who calls his own mother a whore and who finds her sexuality so frightening that she needs to hide her vibrator.

There's a woman whose husband kicks her in bed claiming (with a straight face) that he does it while asleep, unconsciously.

Four different women.

Four different stories with one thing in common:

They say they love their man.

Status update of a friend

2010-08-08T19:34:00.004+03:00

"Hi, I came today".

Now did you really darling? Thanks for sharing. Next time try to remember to include the word "back".

Heat wave

2010-07-28T16:10:00.002+03:00

Once in a lifetime heat wave and what does she get?
A cold sore.

Impulses

2010-07-24T18:17:00.003+03:00

She went to bed in her 10th floor apartment intending to take a short nap.
It was a hot summer day and the window at the end of her bed was wide open.
She had shut her eyes when a thought, seemingly out of nowhere, popped into her head.
"What if I climbed through the window while asleep and fell?"

She knew we all have those kinds of thoughts even while awake. We have them when we stand on the edge of a waterfall. We all think: What if I jumped now? Or we think of doing something outrageous, saying something blatantly honest. Our mind exploring the possibilities just like our subconscious minds do all the time. But we never do it. We won't get naked in public or plant a kiss on some stranger's lips simply because we think they are gorgeous.

Then she shut the window.

An obstinate man does not hold opinions, but they hold him

2010-07-23T15:14:00.004+03:00

He will not say it and she does not know why.
Yes, he has explained himself, time and time again. Explained himself in different and often contradictory ways, and yet she is none the wiser, baffled by his doggedness.

Not knowing is like a cloud hanging over her. A cloud that may just as easily dissolve and make way to sunshine as it may erupt in violent rain and thunder.

Not knowing makes her uneasy.
Not knowing puts her on guard.

Eventually, what ever it is that happens, is no way his responsibility.
He can simply shrug his shoulders and say: "I promised you no rain nor shine. I promised you nothing. I didn't promise anything".

And he will be right, no arguments from her.
Take no responsibility and never be held to account.
Sail through life not choosing.
Coast without making up your mind.
Eat your cake and have it too.
Be your own man.
Persevere.

Whence comes my love? O heart, disclose!
It was from cheeks that shame the rose,
From lips that spoil the ruby's praise,
From eyes that mock the diamond's blaze:
Whence comes my woe? as freely own;
Ah me! 'twas from a heart like stone.

The blushing cheek speaks modest mind,
The lips befitting words most kind,
The eye does tempt to love's desire,
And seems to say, "'Tis Cupid's fire;"
Yet all so fair but speak my moan,
Since nought doth say the heart of stone.

Why thus, my love, so kind bespeak
Sweet eye, sweet lip, sweet blushing cheek,—
Yet not a heart to save my pain?
O Venus, take thy gifts again!
Make not so fair to cause our moan,
Or make a heart that's like your own.

Some couples

2010-06-22T11:04:00.002+03:00

Some couples are like a steam train moving steadily toward a railhead built from steel.

Confession

2010-06-20T23:09:00.003+03:00

I had been watching The Simpsons for years before realising it was always Itchy who killed Scratchy.

Soppy cow

2010-06-19T19:15:00.003+03:00

The bride kissed the groom's hand while holding tightly onto it.
The groom looked at his bride and smiled.
The bride winked at her man and later wiped a tear away from his cheek.

Whose the soppy cow?
Well I am, crying uncontrollably on the sofa.
Puppies and weddings are the weak points in my emotional armour.

Pet peeves: Part 12 (Black shoes)

2010-06-19T13:34:00.002+03:00

It's summer, it's a Saturday and it's wedding time, and all over Finland female wedding guests are putting on pretty dresses in all the colours of a rainbow... and black chunky shoes.

Black chunky shoes with powdery pink.
Black chunky shoes with lime green.
Black chunky shoes with pastel blue.
Black chunky shoes with delicate yellow.
Black chunky shoes with pale lilac.
Black chunky shoes with floral pattern.

Black chunky shoes.

A wedding I wasn't invited to

2010-06-19T11:11:00.011+03:00

A wedding I was expecting an invite to takes place today, and I am not talking about the wedding of Princess Victoria and Daniel.

I would have probably ended up feeling bored out of my mind at the wedding, and found solace from Brain Champ and making silent sarcastic remarks about the other guests, but that is not the point. The point is I was not invited and it makes me extremely annoyed for a variety of reasons I will not go into.

So, this Saturday, instead of getting dolled up, I washed windows at 8 am and reorganised the kitchen. Having satisfied my need for organisation when feeling displeased, I'm now heading out for a walk and settling down on the sofa later on to attend a wedding.
Of Princess Victoria and Daniel.

PS. She beat me into it...

Fairy floss, spun sugar

2010-06-18T07:19:00.012+03:00

Cute puppies, Midsomer Murders and humorous detective fiction.
Uplifiting music, dancing and funny cartoons.
Witty comedies, happy endings and butter flavoured popcorn.

Want to go see the gloomy and forlorn "best movie ever"?
No thank you.
And no, she is not going to read the bleak novel of the year either (recommended to her by someone who always sees the glass half-empty).

The elements of drama and (depressive) realism can be drawn from her own life. No need to go searching for additional building materials.

Reality is an ugly child (who even their own mother finds hard to love) and can do with embellishment. Ornaments will not go amiss.

Her state of being covered with trimmings and garnishing.
Hot chocolate with extra whipped cream? Yes please.

Cloak and dagger

2010-05-21T08:19:00.002+03:00

"Have you followed me recently?", he asked.

(Pause)

"Not on the street of course, not that you would have spied on me, but followed my actions, the way I have been", he added.

" 'Not an the street of course!' ", she quoted and laughed heartily.

Who is she and what is she doing

2010-05-20T21:15:00.004+03:00

How many times has she told herself, promised herself, not to settle for things?
Not to settle for less than she knows she is worth.
And how many times has she told herself, promised herself, to admit the facts when the truth stares at her, with all of its final clarity?

But no, oh no, she sticks her head into a pile of shit and eloquently lies to herself. Too scared to do what she knows in her heart is the right thing to do.

If only this and if only that. If only she was someone else, something else, for she is never enough, never good enough, never worthy, never accepted for who she is.

Maybe there's something missing from her. Maybe she can't get, because she has nothing to give. Maybe there's an emptiness within her that other people can see.

15 years ago

2010-05-18T10:07:00.010+03:00

15 years and 2 days ago I wrote a letter to my mother.

I wrote that it was never too later to start over. I wrote that she would make a wonderful grandmother to my children. I wrote that I missed her and loved her and would always do so.

I took the letter the her flat and slipped it in through the mail slot, because I didn't want to ring the doorbell.
Two days later someone rang mine because
two days later my mother had died.

(It wasn't until today that I asked myself: "Was it because of my letter that she drank too much that night?")

My diary from all those years ago reveals a young girl obsessed with boys. A young girl with a rational and a matter of fact attitude toward death.
A way of distancing herself from grief, I guess.

That young girl starts the story of her mother's death by describing the weather. She tells how she informed her father, uncle and cousin about the death of their ex-wife, sister and aunt, and how she would not call her grandmother until the morning so not to ruin her good night's sleep.

She doesn't write about her feelings, but that "I don't understand what has happened. The day was and is quite ordinary. I have not cried, my favourite TV programme is on and life goes on."

Few days later she lists the cost of the coffin (1900 FIM), coffin gown (150 FIM), cremation (150 FIM) and transport (400 FIM). She has decided not to buy a burial plot, because she can't afford it and she does not want to ask money from her uncle or grandmother. She writes about the arrangements, the flowers, the insurance and the funeral and nothing about her feelings.

And somewhere in the middle of all that rational and mature text is a girl lost without her mother, a girl holding back her tears and emotions, a girl who writes:

"I don't understand it. I don't get it."
("Asiaa ei ymmärrä, ei tajua.")

Pet peeves: Part 11 (Risky business)

2010-04-12T08:37:00.004+03:00

I hate losing more than I like winning.
If you can't be fairly certain of ending up at the top, why bother?

Stocks: give me a high interest savings account instead
Poker: few euros into a slot machine is about all I can stomach
Monopoly: no one wants to see me throwing a tantrum along with the board and pieces

A Spanish friend of mine used to say: "The most important is the participation", but I can't say I agree.

Rotting eggs

2010-04-08T20:58:00.004+03:00

She went the see a gynaecologist and remembered what had happened the last time she did so two years ago. She remembered the female gynaecologist who had stood up to point at a fertility graph on the wall.

"You are here now (80 percent chance of getting pregnant within one year) but in few years you will be here (50 percent of chance of getting pregnant within one year)".

She remembered thanking her for the blatantly obvious and telling her she had no intentions of getting pregnant. Not then. Maybe never.

She wondered if the male gynaecologist would talk to her about the same thing. Point out the blatantly obvious.

He did not disappoint her.

"Wouldn't it be time to stop renewing your birth control pill prescription and think about babies?"

"Do you have a policy of reminding women above certain age about fertility and babies?" she asked, but her theory was denied.

Is this what young women above certain age are reduced to? The carriers of rotting eggs.

"Yes, I suppose some people do choose the childless lifestyle, but don't they feel very lonely when they are old?", concluded the male gynaecologist.

"What sort of a reason is that to have children", she asked.
Quietly in her head. Who was she to question his views on reproduction after all...

The illusion of not being alone escapes me

2010-03-07T11:03:00.001+02:00

My life
A series of choices
Where I am at

Wanting to fit in
Wanting to belong
Never quite getting there

People
Slipping through my fingers

Something

2010-03-06T20:58:00.001+02:00

Something borrowed
Something new
Just give me something old

English for the... lazy?

2010-01-25T09:16:00.001+02:00

"i wud say women r d best, but only wyn dy r female enof to make men."

'Nugh said.

Ps. What the heck does it mean anyway?

Missing

2010-01-20T22:35:00.000+02:00

Looking at a photo from six years back.
My face beaming with happiness.
Surrounded by people near and dear (some nearer and dearer).

I long to relive that day, that lunch (after which the photo was taken).
I feel sad and my eyes swell with bittersweet tears.
Missing the past, wanting what I can't have and being thankful for it.
For them.
My friends.
My friend.

Can miles truly separate you from friends.... If you want to be with someone you love, aren't you already there?

The Big C

2010-01-15T20:59:00.001+02:00

For someone who is scared to death of being alone, commitment can be a life or death issue.

Meantime, on the other side of the island

2010-01-14T13:25:00.004+02:00

While Haiti awaits the arrival of a global rescue effort in the wake of a devastating earthquake that may have killed tens of thousands, my father is taking in the sun and tropical cocktails in the all inclusive hotel complex on the other side of the island.

The N-word

2010-01-01T10:53:00.002+02:00

There I sat with these twenty-somethings gushing about getting old.

"I'm going to be twenty-seven next year... Oh. My. God!", exclaimed this one girl, who should have probably been more worried about her alarmingly expanding waistline.

Then I heard it the first time. The N-word.
Then I heard it the second time. The N-word.

And I sat quiet for a fleeting moment. Pondering if I should take the cat out of the bag, rock the boat, challenge the status quo, make a stink, stir things up... Knowing I would feel worse if I said nothing.

"Did I just hear the N-word?", I asked while my stomach turned and twisted in a slight state of panic.

And I thought of graceful Mrs M, a black woman, who has been like a mother to me.
And I thought of honourable Mr M, to whom I am like a daughter he never had.
And I thought of the times the N-word had been directed at me being in the company of my black friends.
And I thought of these two educated twenty-somethings who should have known better.
And all of it made me physically ill and upset.

"The word doesn't have to be negative. It can be used in a neutral way", argued the other twenty-something.

"I think we are well beyond neutral with that particular word", I answered and left it at that.

“There is no reply to the ignorant like keeping silence”

My taste is simple: the best will do

2009-12-31T09:00:00.006+02:00

When did I stop wanting to sleep under a hollowfibre duvet and start comparing the qualities of Hungarian and Siberian goose down?

When did crémant wines become the best substitute for champagne?

Why is it that I would never eat in McDonald's but that home-made hamburgers and chips are a treat?

Since when has cashmere been far more desirable than regular wool?

Why do I scorn canned and processed Cheddar cheese (ingredients include 4 % of cheese) and ready (Happy!) meals?

Why do I want to sleep between sheets of silk or the best Egyptian Cotton (1000 thread count will do)?

And does all this make me a snob or just a connoisseur of luxury?

"Give me the luxuries of life and I will willingly do without the necessities."

- Frank Lloyd Wright

She can't do anything right

2009-12-03T16:09:00.002+02:00

What should be the most natural thing in life has become difficult.

She smiles too much, thinks too much, feels too much.
She analyses too much, laughs too much, loves too much.
She talks too much and kisses too often.
She is too happy. Suspiciously happy.
She is this and that, that and this but most of all: she is too much.

Sinking in

2009-11-29T02:20:00.001+02:00

Often what you need to hear is not what you want to hear.

Hugo and I

2009-10-31T17:35:00.003+02:00

"16 year old Hugo is raising himself in a vacuum and already carrying a lot loss and sadness within him. Hugo is just one of the casualties of a fatherless society."

Hugo wears the mask of masculinity outside home. At home he takes care of his young nieces, his grandmother and himself.
Hugo, sixteen, is the man of the house.

Hugo is a young man growing up, bringing himself up, in Boston.
His childhood, very different from mine in one way but very similar in another.

Hugo is fatherless.
I was motherless.
What we share is the loss and sadness.
The fear.
The stress.
The vacuum.

Doing the best we can.
Making the best we can from scanty ingredients.

"You turned out well. Considering."
That's what people used to tell me.
And yes, I guess I did a pretty good job.
Sufficient.
But just like Hugo misses his father, I miss my mother every day.
A part of me is missing, forever unwhole.

Is it me, or is it them?

2009-10-28T07:55:00.003+02:00

Is it me, or is it them?
Is it something I smell in them, or something they smell in me?
Is it something I see in them, or something they see in me?
Do they resonate with a need in me, or do I resonate with a need in them?
Am I forever doomed to find myself in the same ol' situation?
And from where do I start the change if don't know where the beginning is?

Never allow someone to be your priority while allowing yourself to be their option

2009-10-22T07:58:00.003+03:00

Never allow someone to be your priority while allowing yourself to be their option.

But what if the mistake has already been made?

Short-lived madness

2009-10-03T19:03:00.005+03:00

I found myself from a situation where there was a lump in my throat.
Tears of irritation and anger burnt behind my eyes.
My breathing rapid and shallow.

Childish thoughts of revenge.
Hurt feelings taking me back to the years as a bully-victim.
The class outcast.

Anger.
Secondary emotion.

Deep breaths.

Self-analysis.
Self-observation.
Self-awareness.

Honesty.

I'll get to the bottom of this...
.. maturely
...like an adult.
(...and remove him from my friends' list on Facebook)

For her own breakfast she'll project a scheme, Nor take her tea without a stratagem.

2009-09-26T06:43:00.003+03:00

There.
Now.
You shall have it.
My scheming ways.
Ploys and stratagems.

You won't know what hit you.
You won't have a clue.

I'll spin you around.
I'll baffle you.
Bedazzle you.
Make you long for the day it was just me you got.

It'll teach you.
I will teach you.
You'll see.

Letting go

2009-09-25T23:10:00.002+03:00

Letting go of something you did not have in the first place isn't easy, but who has ever made such promises?

Being different

2009-09-24T22:55:00.002+03:00

Every girl since me has had thick, dark and long hair (as opposed to my fine blond bob).

Don't write her love letters

2009-09-18T07:39:00.003+03:00

She doesn't care what words he uses to describe his love for her.
She doesn't even expect him to describe it.

She doesn't wait for a full analysis of feelings or a total account of thoughts.

She doesn't require love letter or poems.
And nor does she require ballads sang to her.

All she wants is what they already have.

Love.
Laughter.
Liking one another.
Straightforwardness.

And yes, for him to stick around for a while.

"You are very good at analysing yourself". "Thank you doctor. Now give me the pills please".

2009-09-11T22:20:00.005+03:00

Everything that irritates us about others can lead us to an understanding of ourselves.
- Carl Jung

Yes.
I know myself very well.

There is good news tonight

2009-09-10T21:21:00.002+03:00

I'm alright.

A trip down memory lane

2009-09-10T18:19:00.005+03:00

I'm going to meet him tomorrow.
My second ever boyfriend.

Yes, we were fourteen and it only lasted for two weeks, but I remember him better than many of the boys and men that came between then and now.
Skipping school together and spending the day on the sofa. Watching TV together, cuddling, kissing. And those kisses...
Those kisses lasted forever and kisses were all there was. All that we needed. All that we wanted.

Having spoken to him on the phone earlier today, I know that his voice and laughter have not changed. Has he?
Will I search for worry lines on his forehead? Or will I concentrate on the laughter lines?
Will I be disappointed? Disappointed seeing this thirty-something family man and not the boy his voice reminded me of?
Or did his voice remind me of myself? The girl that I was?
The girl who did not spare a thought for wrinkles and babies and ticking bombs.

Cartoon scar(e)

2009-09-09T18:46:00.005+03:00

I'm looking at those blue stitches for the last time, for tomorrow they will be gone.
Looking at the stitches and the skin of the arm underneath.

I'm thinking about the tissue. (Stupid tissue! Give me a tissue!)
The biopsy.
The scare.
The bargaining within (I'll finally finish my thesis and be a better person on all fronts).
The pessimism (What if? Why would I buy a coffee table in that case?).
The optimism.
Not thinking about it.
I'm sure I'll be fine.
And if not...
Well, I'll be damned if I don't cope with that option as well.

“He shifted his weight from foot to foot, but it was equally uncomfortable on each.”

2009-08-12T16:46:00.000+03:00

Relationship status: Not committed

2009-08-12T06:25:00.000+03:00

Little Miss loved him dearly.
Little Miss wanted to be home - to let go.
Let go of fences and pretences.

Little Miss thought she belong but
Little Miss was proved wrong.

Little Miss looked at him aghast,
the effect of his words unsurpassed.
"I'm not committed", he submitted.
"It feels good now, but how about tomorrow? Then there might be sorrow."

Little Miss couldn't understand.
Surely he knew not everything could be planned.
Love was not a hurricane.
Love was an aeroplane.

Tend to it, take care of it.
Fuel it, service it.
It will carry you through thick and thin.
Make you feel serene within.

Little Miss is chasing the rainbow but
Little Miss has nowhere to go.
What a bimbo!

A bit like Christiano Ronaldo

2009-06-11T18:30:00.004+03:00

White trainers.
No socks.
Hairy legs for not-out-of-his-teens-yet.
Short roll-up shorts in pastel green.
White shirt open all the way down to the waist.
Surfer jewellery and...
a nipple!

Pet peeves: Part 10 (Twenty-somethings)

2009-06-11T16:41:00.002+03:00

Twenty-somethings complaining about being old.

Nugh said.

Everything is not always as it seems

2009-06-08T11:12:00.006+03:00

There he stands.
Moody looking teenager in baggy jeans, buried under his cap.

Then I see it.
The boys foot tapping the floor of the tram ever so gently.
His shoulders follow, then another foot and yes, the are his hips.
The boy is practicing dance moves, I conclude.
Curious by then and I concentrate, tuning my ears for the muffled music seeping out from the boys headphones.

Curtis Mayfield.
Move On Up.

Well, I'll be damned.

Memories of my mother - Part 1

2009-06-03T18:26:00.004+03:00

My mother had beautiful hands.
Long fingernails painted Danger Red.
Her delicate feet were beautiful as well.

My mother had long eye lashes and the mascara she used came in a gold-coloured metal case that had a spiral engraving from the base to the tip.

My mother had one dimple that appeared every time she smiled.

One of my mother's canine teeth protruded slightly and she told me it was because she was half-human, half-witch. I remember waking up on one Easter morning finding all the paintings in my grandmother's house lopsided. My mother claimed it was due to her nightly flight on a broomstick.

Funny the things you remember after someone has gone.
And funny how tightly you hang on to those precious details fearing of forgetting. Regretting not knowing more, not remembering more.

Can we be friends?

2009-06-02T07:12:00.004+03:00

At first she hated me like teenagers do.
Then she wanted to be my friend.
Pretended to be my friend.
She talked behind my back and denied it when I confronted her.
She had a crush on my first boyfriend and tried talk him out of dating me.
Boys either adored her or thought she was intellectually challenged.
She ended up marrying an ice hockey player (this is Finland but think of footballers wives and WAGs) and purchasing a pair of silicons implants.
Last time we saw she did not acknowledge my existance.
Now she wants to be my friend in Facebook.

Poor prospect.

Engagement gift

2009-05-24T17:27:00.005+03:00

What do you buy to a woman you'd like to say:

'Run! Run while you still can! Do not waste your precious time with this small man.
This man who disrespects you.
This man who would rather give up on you than beer.
This man who sees your female friends as a threat. Them and your dildo.
This man who can not even hold up to his own standards.
This man who fears women who speak their mind.
This man who belittles you.
This man who clearly does not share your dream for mortgage and two kids.
This man who is going nowhere.
This man without a backbone.
This man without "cojones".
This man without grace.'

The things people get paid for

2009-05-21T09:48:00.002+03:00

Earning well above the average salary level he holds on to a hoover hose while his boss drills a hole for "We've made a sell!" bell.

My mental marker

2009-05-20T11:41:00.003+03:00

He was my car accident and
my house burning down.

He was my Jacob's wrestle and
my triathlon in rain.

Apologies but for what?

2009-05-12T19:26:00.004+03:00

"You are Russian, aren't you?", asked the man from Israel after changing few words with me in Finnish today.

"No, no I'm not. I'm Finnish".

"Oh, I do apologise", said he.
"There are many Russians living in Israel and I can normally tell them apart. It is not like me to be mistaken. I am sorry!", he continued.

"That's quite all right", I said.
"I take it as a compliment if anything", I added, for he seemed to have a need for reassurance.

Why?
Beats me.

A compliment from man to man

2009-05-11T08:20:00.004+03:00

"Women have a tendency to turn into toads when they find a man and settle down. You are lucky because your woman isn't like that".

People in a bubble

2009-05-10T02:51:00.003+03:00

What sets us apart, us people, is that some people feel metaphysically connected to other people while some people ultimately feel alone.

Free agents. Not connected to time or space.
Loose. Detached.

Other people and their feelings floating in front of them.
Separate.
Random.

The bubble around them may be translucent, but it is ever present.
Reminding they should not, could not, get too close.

"The only thing standing between you and your happiness, is your belief that you are alone", said Anna Draper to Dick in the brilliant TV-series Mad Men.

Word association game (while under the influence): Part I

2009-05-06T08:29:00.001+03:00

(Two players)

Chick
Big man
Egg
Penis
Menace
Star Wars
Star Trek
Bold
Fetish
Freedom
France
Bordeaux
Tabula rasa
Lobotomy
Robert de Niro
Al Pacino
"Are you talking to me?!"
Pantera
Tight trousers
Undressing
Jörn Donner
Brave
Position
Identity
Complex
Human relations
Relationship
Love
Idyll
Unsustainable
Carpe Diem