Think happy thoughts... Think happy.. uh... Think.

Happy thoughts!

Oh! Oh! I know!

I've got my tickets to go to London and Dublin next week! Yaaaaay!

Little Miss Sunshine

Um... I'll try and post something genuinely positive at some point today. I just need to think about it for a little while.

Evolution

After years of practise, I've learned to get better at recognising the reasons behind my strange moods; when I get a sudden bout of anxiety or depression, if I think about it, I can usually figure out what triggered it. Sometimes it even means that I can go and fix the thing instead of suffering from random madness; sometimes I'm just a little wiser but feel just as bad as before. But it's a start, right?

Funny old life

It's kind of funny how things never work out quite the way you want to. Take this morning, for example. In spite of fervently wishing to be hit by a car while crossing the street, or willing my train to fall off the rails in a sequence of mass-destruction, or at very least, becoming a key witness to some horrible crime so that I wouldn't have to go to work, I nevertheless arrived here safely and in the same state of physical health as I started out this morning. Sheesh!

Then I willed this to be a quiet, stress-free day, and what else would happen but the Wee Bitch gets my blood boiling again right off the bat.
She decided to have a half-day because she needs to take her boyfriend's son to the doctor at noon. At noon, right? I told her I don't have time to take her customers under my wing today, because I'm already under three or four escalations, and there's a shitload of things I need to close out for quarter-end. (That's tomorrow.) But no worries; never mind that two people are on holiday, two are sick (but working anyway), one healthy person in the office... the Wee Bitch decides to stay for dinner at the doctor's place so she won't be logging on again today. How nice.

Friday 5

It was me. I provided the question:

If you could change five events - historical or personal - from the past, which ones and how? What outcome would you hope for?

Off the top of my head, which is where the question came from, I can't think of any answers. I already iterated this in my comments to Gord, but it's very hard for me to think of anything I would be willing to change, personally or otherwise. I believe that civilisation has to and will go through certain kinds of things and phases. Likewise, I would not be the person I am now if I hadn't made the decisions I've made in the past, even if I think of them as mistakes. Therefore, take my answers below with a grain of salt (or other seasoning of your preference).

1) Possibly against my better judgement, I would still go for the job in Scotland, but I'd persist in continuing with the martial arts. What I'm hoping to achieve with this is several things; I'd have a social life outside work, more energy and better self-esteem due to not gaining weight (about 30 kg in 18 months, which I'm currently trying to get rid of). With this better self-esteem I would be more readily looking for a new job, and so I would both get out of the job in the Company quicker and return to the "creative field" before I did too much damage.

2) I would prevent the murder of John Lennon. Mainly I would do this out of curiosity; I would be interested to see how he would have turned out. I think Lennon was an extremely talented musician and artist. He was also an intelligent man of many ideals which I admire. And besides, I'm willing to bet he'd have aged far more graciously than any of the other surviving Beatles.

3) Czar Alexander III of Russia was assassinated a day before he was going to publish the plans to constitutionalise monarchy by introducing democracy [Sorry. Shortened version of the facts with bad English] . According to the history books, the first bomb did not kill him, but he died of the second one after he insisted to stay and help the wounded from the first bomb. The heir to the throne didn't take up the reform. I would change the history so that the czar would have escaped the second bomb and published the constitutional change. How would the history of Europe and Russia have changed if Russia had been a democratic state?

4) Personal one for a change; if I had to go back, I would make an actual effort to learn Danish since I arrived to the country, in spite of being pissed off [at the company not bothering to pay for a course - they're happy to encourage all other studies though. Which are in Danish. And annoyed at the Wee Bitch who kept telling me "You must speak Danish if you want to live here." Oh I must?!]. Never mind all that. I'd learn Danish and keep it a secret at work so that I could eavesdrop on certain conversations and just so I could have the advantage on my last day to tell certain somebodies how I really feel about them. In Danish.
Besides, it's probably look nice on a CV. If I had one.

5) I would go back in time about 25 years and persuade my parents to fix their marriage in some way other than having another child. I'd tell them how ill the kid would be and how much worry and heartache it'd cause for them and itself. Yep. That's what I would do. But that would probably rip apart the fabric of reality and all sorts of space-time-continuum type weird things would start happening.

Other Friday Fivers on the left side bar.

As it turns out, only Valkyria made it to the office today. Let's recap:

- Our new trainee is on vacation
- Cat Eyes is on vacation (in Egypt, the lucky girl)
- I'm at home with a tummy bug
- Wee Bitch is at home looking after her boyfriend's son, who is ill. (He's 15 too, so they should have a lot in common)
- Simple's boyfriend's grandfather died this weekend, so she had to stay and work from home to arrange for him to get on a plane. (Don't ask.)

It wouldn't be so funny if it also didn't coincide with the change to summer time...

Miracle for Monday morning

The Wee Bitch isn't in the office today but she's actually working from home! This is the first time in two years she's actually doing that. I'm impressed.

Of course, it coincides with my tummy bug - so I'm working from home as well - let's see how many others have made the same decision... We did lose an hour of sleep due to moving to summer time, after all.

Mwa-ha-ha

Remember the incident on the Philips mp3-player I bought? I was asked to complete a questionnaire by an "impartial" company doing research on the Philips customer service. The revenge is mine, in any small way!

Undskyld for being mental

I hate being a girl. Sheesh. Having to put up with being completely incapable of controlling my moodswings week or two out of a month, not to mention the fact that the said moodswings include the girliest possible emotionality, well, just don't even go there. It's horrible. I received a mail from Moogie - after what to me was a long silence - and I was so relieved and happy and sad and all that at once that I nearly started crying. In the office. [insert eye-roll here] There's nothing soppier than, god forbid, longing for the distant lover. I might as well lock myself up a tower and grow really long hair and stick peas under my mattress.

I think I got my first Danish non-glare-induced apology yesterday. At least, I think it was an apology. The man who ran into me from behind said "Ungh", which could have been short for "undskyld", the Danish word for "sorry." I was so surprised I nearly fell down the escalators.

...Must dislodge a piece of chicken from between my teeth.

Must start working on my portfolio. Must rediscover creative skills. Must move on.

Dreams

I had my first "Danish" dream last night. Actually, the woman in the dream was really speaking English, but in the dream it was Danish anyway. The point is, does that mean I'm finally Danished?

The dream after that was in Finnish, and in it, I had an argument over a towel. With my mom. And then I woke up very cranky.

The stupid bag is mine

Chickened out

I was about to apply for an internal job in Madrid when I panicked and closed the browser. I'm not afraid of terrorist strikes (which are just as likely in Copenhagen). I just have a gut feeling which tells me not to do it, no matter how many logical reasons I can give for it. It's the same feeling I had when I accepted the job in Scotland, and we all know how that turned out...

On one hand, I want to get away from this office/dress-code/customer interface/non-creative/organisational skills work. I hate it, and I'll never be good at it.

On the other, it's so hard to get back on track and start a "creative" career anew. Also, I know this job. A monkey could do it. And it pays the bills. And it would relocate me to another country again.

I wish I had more courage than this.

Fight the good fight

I've decided to buy the Ruby Gloom bag. I owe it to myself, even if I'll never use it (I shouldn't say that, because I probably will) - I've been working in the Company for too long, and been separated from people who are like me; my view on what's "normal" has been distorted. Most people I'm surrounded with at the moment think video games are a waste of time and wonder how I can read so many books. I need to be around people who don't have an obsession with fitting in.

I have to get out of here! I'm being brainwashed.

I want Ruby Gloom, damn it

This is me: Standard black T-shirts, standard black trousers, with standard straight black hair with standard black shoes and a bag. Forgettable, boring, overweight and constantly uncomfortable at being me.

I want to be the kind of person who can and will get away with neo-punk hair and Ruby Gloom black-and-tartan-with-chains-skulls-and-zips-that-lead-to-no-pocket bags. I want to be able to wear Pilgrim jewelry and not feel out of place. I want to be able to wear lots of eye-makeup and not feel like a right twat.

I'm not even me anymore. I don't know where I went, and I don't know if Ruby Gloom girl is me or just who I wish I was... But whatever I am now, i don't like it. It's terribly vain and conceited to think the person I am can be changed with what I wear, isn't it? Maybe these are growing-up pains, and in a couple of years I'll be quite happy not being able to distinguish myself from "other people" at all.

I'm so unhappy it's ridiculous. Don't be alarmed, most of it is hormones, because I'm getting my goddamn periods this week. OK?!

Where is Moogie?

I'm sorry. I suffer from occasional attacks of intense sarcasm because of a tumour in my brain due to repeatedly having to explain things to mentally deficit people at work. This, too, shall pass.

My job, and how I enjoy it

I love it how I'm held responsible when manufacturing doesn't build and ship the goods in time, or when they keep changing the ship date or when they or my other contacts don't give me any feedback. I am - or the quality of my work is, rather - a subject of a formal customer complaint. Of course, it is undeniably my fault when a truck ends up in Rome instead of Helsinki. No worries. Bring it on! There's nothing I'd rather be doing than looking back on the records for an explanation on everything I've done the past few months, if it comes to that.

Failing that, I'll be spending my time digging into the mail archive to see what's been sent to me and what hasn't in the last two or three years on some invoice dispute issues, since the leasing bit of the company is also saying I do fuck all about whatever they claim to have sent me.

How boring my job would be if these issues didn't crop up every once in a while.

Nocturnal

So tired. Less than five hours' sleep just doesn't agree with me, but what can I say? I had to bet people to a pulp in Tekken4 and some things are just more important than work. Such as pestering Todd while he was updating the blog template for me. And rummaging the house for sweets. And kicking ass in Tekken.

I will now proceed trying to imprint the keyboard on my forehead.

Note to self

Must remember not to play Tekken until 1 AM to retain ability to feel my fingertips.

New look

Isn't it neat? Todd made it for me, because I was too lazy. And truth to be told, he did a way better job than I ever would have. Wheeeee!

Coming soon...

Photos. I love my camera-phone.

Another game. I scored a shameful 99 before I got confused with Y and V.

[link via luther]

Ooh! Oooh!!

I want one of those!!!

'Nuff said

Right now, I couldn't be less interested in working. I'd much rather retire to a quiet corner, armed with pencils and paints, and see if this comic strip idea I have would fly or not.

I had another thing to say too, but it's far too selfish to be posted. No, I can't be persuaded. It's embarrassing. And childish too, probably. Huh. There's no use twisting my arm, I'm not telling!

Life, the Universe and Everything

Rainy messaged me at some point last night with a view to life being utterly pointless; what is the point of living when you're going to die anyway? Now, I'm not a wise person, and I don't hold the answer to that kind of question. It's well documented that I've suffered from depression for as long as I can remember. But maybe I should re-phrase that: I've lived with depression for as long as I can remember; I would say that, yes, in the end, life is pointless. It's as pointless as any animal's. For the sake of clarification, the to-do list for a cat (for example) looks something like this:

- make people feed me
- poop
- shag
- beat up other cats
- shed fur
- sleep
- look at kings

What is life, in the solely human sense of the word? It's about passion. It's about ideas, understanding, complex analysis of information; about living in a way that is more than mere survival, about compassion and mercy and justice; it's about learning and dreaming and about creating. Sure enough, it's about all the bad things as well; cruelty, war, small-mindedness, crime. You get the good with the bad, I suppose.

In the mind of a person who not religious and not intent to view such things as "love" or "compassion" as enough reasons for life, there's little else left. Why breed? They'll all die anyway. Why are we here? We're part of a huge program called Life, but seem to have no other purpose. Here's a suggestion, then:

The purpose of life is to live.

If you detach yourself from life and look at it from high above, you see nothing but an anthill of beings scurrying about, breeding and dying in ever increasing numbers. By not living you do protect yourself from all kinds of hurts and bruises, but also from ever experiencing the good things; love, and warmth, and joy. You can read all about it, but all you get is knowledge, second-hand opinions and used-up life. You don't learn, and if you don't learn, you don't change. If you don't change, you cannot evolve. And who knows where humans are evolving to? Maybe it's worth the trouble to find out.

Or maybe I'm wrong. Maybe there really is nothing more to life than breeding and dying. There is only one thing that's for certain: Life doesn't stop just because you don't want to play. Stand aside. Go on. Free will is another wonderfully human idea, and it's your right to exercise it.

Now, as for the Meaning of Life... I would tell you, but then I'd have to kill you.

[Related: Jazz deals with the same question]

Friday 5

This week it's Gord's turn to fry my brain. [the one I don't have]

The other day I had a talk I had with a co-worker, Shawn, at my workplace. I was talking about an experience at the swimming pool and how I realised, through that experience, that I was actually an adult; I mean, I felt it clearly at that time. It wasn't the first time that I felt clearly the reality of my adulthood, though. Those kinds of moments come at funny moments, don't they? My baby sister, who is engaged to be married this summer, commented that she wonders when she will feel grown-up. I was only a little surprised at that; I think many of us feel not-quite-grown-up for most of our lives.

How about you? Assuming you have had such moments, what were the five experiences during which the reality of your adulthood struck you the most powerfully? At what five moments in your life have you felt most clearly that you were, indeed, an adult? And if you can't think of five moments at which the reality of your adulthood struck you full-on, you could alternately include moments where the lack of such a feeling struck you most poignantly or significantly.

To me, feeling "adult" means in some degree feeling like I'm responsible, I'm in charge and in control of my own life. I've lived on my own since I was 15 and no longer had to depend on my parents for money [well, not too often anyway] since I was 19 or so. But to feel grown up? No... I believe in the myth of adulthood being the end of silliness and beginning of responsibility.

On the other hand, ever since I was a young teenager, I always felt I had way too much sensibility in me, compared to all the idiotic things my age-mates did. I never wanted to be the Mother Goose Friend, and I think part of my intense dislike to "adulthood" is derived from this period. I want to be a fun person, not the one who looks after others. I don't think it quite worked out, and I have a feeling I've fallen between chairs anyway.

1) A random moment, when I realised that I really was living the part of life which I in my childhood thought was "adulthood" - it can't be put to words. I realised I can no longer do things without thinking of the consequences, such as not getting out of the bed in the morning, or dying my hair blue because I feel like it. It's not that i can't do these things, but I'm painfully aware that I can no longer rebel against the system in any old way. Not if I want to get a new job, or keep my old... I realised that being an adult stinks.

2) Most of my friends and colleagues are older than me, and they do like to keep reminding me that I'm younger [don't have the experience, the worries, the wrinkles, whatever]. I used to like playing that game and be the kid, but I'm suddenly tired of it. Maybe because I've come to realise that I'm 24 and I haven't achieved a single thing in my life I'm proud of or pleased about, and it's starting to seem a little late to get on the track and get the kind of life that I always wanted when I was younger. 24 may seem young to some people, but I have been working full time for five years and I count myself as a professional in two very different jobs and I've lived in three different countries during that time. It gives time a little different meaning, to me.
Not wanting to be thought of as a kid, or to be remined of my age seems pretty adult-y to me.

3) [wimp out card #1] It strikes me as a complete lack of adulthood when I think about a possible future with Moogie; I know he wants children, but I just can't see myself taking the responsibility and having my life run around in circles over the little shitbags descendants. Will I ever be ready; do I ever want to be ready; Is anyone ever ready for parenthood?

4) [wimp out card #2] I once said to Moogie that I don't want to grow up. I realise this is a childish thing to say, and that at some point everyone must become an adult, or suffer the consequences. Maybe it's foolish, but I don't want to be a responsible person, I don't want to think up a pension scheme, or a career, or a future. Moogie told me in no uncertain terms that I will have to, and yes, I know that.

5) [wimp out card #3] It's also struck to me that I no longer want what I always knew I always wanted, and suddenly I don't know what I want anymore. It's like being fifteen again, although when I was fifteen the last time, I knew very well what I wanted from life.

Other Friday 5-brats on the left side bar.

If only I had a brain!!

Everyone seems to be on the edge today. I knew this wasn't going to be a good day.

Nothin' much to say

Instead of reading this post, you could go read a post about Steve's garden. It's funny, and it's got lots of sex in it.

People don't, I seem to have noticed, like to talk about the bombs in Madrid. Did they hit too close to home, or still too far to make it seem real that while we may not be at war; someone else seems to be at war with us? Are non-islamists under attack from cowardly religious fundamentalists or people who are just in it for the chicks? "Yeah, o flower of the desert. We sent one of the lads out in a van loaded with 1000 kg of explosives and grapnel and shit, and, haha, it exploded on the road, killing twenty people! Wotcha reckon, wanna get hitched?"

Seriously though, even if I do believe in a person's right to defend their country from an attack; more than that I believe in a person's right not to be blown up while on the way to work in the office. I believe that a person in any country should have the right to walk the streets without fear, say, write or broadcast his or her opinion, dress the way they want, marry who they want, have children or not have children, see a doctor, vote, believe in any deity of his or her choice, not believe in anything, get educated, have a job and so on, as long as they don't hurt anyone else in the process. Simple, eh?

But then again, why would my opinion count? The people at the top, yeah, I suppose they know what's best for me. I suppose I'd better go home and just sit at the table with my hands where they can see them.

On a less idealistic (naive) note, another bout of career-existentialist doubt has crept to the corner of my mind again. Been reading too much Paulo Coelho again, I expect. All these funny ideas about following my dreams and striving to be happy, all that hippie nonsense zipping about my head, it's making it hard to concentrate on this case of, err, some things lost in transit somewhere, and all the freight trackers showing impossible information and no one quite agreeing on who's got the goods. It's all very important, I'm sure, on the general scope of things. After all, someone's got to keep the small wheels running so that the big wheels can invade countries and blow stuff up. No, I didn't mean that. Really. What I meant is, oh look, time for lunch!

A brief panic among the ladies at work, and potential long-ranging gossip this morning is composed of four elements:

1) Train bombs in Madrid
2) Bomb threat in France
3) Lots of trains cancelled in Copenhagen
4) Armed police force rumoured to have been at the central station this morning

Now jump to conclusions.

[Personally, I'm not worried: Que sera, sera. I take a bus, a metro and two trains to get to and from work every day anyway.]

Pass the bitch

The Wee Bitch is applying for a new job. Cat Eyes helped her make her application as good as possible, and I'm currently praying to any deities that may be listening. She'll be much happier elsewhere (but more importantly, so will we).

The Exorcist re-enacted

The Bunnies do the Exorcist. In 30 seconds.

[link via luther]

I want my martial arts back

I received a letter yesterday [a real letter! Wooo!] from my old training buddy and soul sister. I love receiving letters, even if I'm bad at answering them, and it was especially nice to hear from her. People we trained with used to think we were a lesbian couple because we were always together and kind of looked the same (short girls with short, dark hair, anyway). Anyway, she's now training for brown belt. Brown belt!!! I'm happy for her, but I'm also so envious I can almost taste it! My almost biggest regret about going to Scotland and gaining tons of weight is that I stopped training ju jitsu. I miss it so much it actually hurts.

So why don't I start again? There's several reasons, all equally bad, but it all boils down to procrastination and the good old "I'm afraid."

If we ignore them, maybe they'll go away

I was going to post about this, but the Moron Abroad does it so much better. [It would save us a lot of trouble and linking if you just went and read Greg's blog on a daily basis anyway, eh?]

The 9th monster

Lyle writes about depression and in so many ways I agree with what he's saying. I don't ask for help either; don't get given help; I don't believe that anyone can help; it's unfair to expect anyone to be able to help; it's unfair to make myself a burden; I don't want to be dependent on anyone; I know I'm hurting people close to me by my suffering and yet I can't make it stop. Should someone hits too close to the mark, I've learned to tell them "It's just a phase, it'll get better. Incidentally, isn't it a nice weather?" This is protecting them from opening a can of worms, and protecting myself from breaking down in front of someone else. Anyway, it is just a phase. In the end, you always end up hurting someone, and that just adds to the guilt. I don't want pity, or anyone to think they have to wrap me up in cotton wool in case I explode.

As with many artistic people, depression has another side which makes it somehow dear to my heart: untamed tiger for a pet. It is as likely to bite your leg off as inspire you to write or paint things from the heart in a way that happiness has never been able to. And the creative process, the giving birth to something that starts out as a ball of anxiety in my chest, somehow, magically, it makes everything all right. And yet, depression is a tricky muse. At times I've been completely unable to draw or paint anything, and somehow that's worse than not being able to breath. Painting will invariably make me feel better, but sometimes I'm afraid to try in fear of facing the failure of not being able to coax the image from my head onto the canvas.

Posted earlier on the topic: Wendy Pini saying it better.

In case you were wondering, the 9th Monster is borrowed from Finnish mythology and is my pet name for depression:

Over the land of Tuonela [land of the dead] reigned Tuoni and his wife Tuonetar. Their daughters were divinities of suffering: notably Kiputyttö [lit. Paingirl], goddess of illness, and Loviatar, "the most despicable of Tuoni's daughters, source of all evil, origin of thousand scourges. Her face was black and her skin was a horrible sight". By her union with the Wind she gave birth to nine monsters: Pleurisy, Colic, Gout, Phthisis, Ulcers, Scabies, Cancer, Plague and "a fatal spirit, a creature eaten up with envy" who was not given a name. [Larousse Encyclopedia of Mythology; online source here]

It's about the love, stupid!

Great post by Mojave 66.

If only I knew who this is

You are Mitsurugi -

Both mysterious and attractive, you captivate people with the fact that you seem to be
good at everything! Spending quiet moments with a friend and talking about what life means to you is your ideal situation. You don't like to stand out very much and you seem to be more old-fashioned
than modern, but when you do take the spotlight -- you command the floor!


Which Soul Calibur character are you?


this quiz was made by david park

[link via Danneth]

It's a conspiracy, I tell you

Random play seems to be randomply picking up songs designed for Easy Listening falling asleep at work:

• Don Johnson Big Band: Burn de microphones
  
• U2: Walk on
  
• The Cure: This is a lie
  
• Louis Armstrong: Sweet Georgia Brown
  
• Louis Armstrong: La vie en rose
  
• Don Johnson Big Band: Milano
  
• The Cure: Jupiter crash
  
• Suurlähettiläät: Sinä
  
• Him: Salt in our wounds
  
• the Dubliners: Champion at keeping the rolling
  
• Louis Armstrong: Dream a little dream of me
  
• Tracy Chapman: Baby can I hold you

That's pretty impressive, considering most of my playlist is the likes of Metallica, Linkin Park, Pink, Shakira, Rammstein, punk and metal collections, No Doubt, Allan Morrisette...

If only I could keep my eyes open...

Why boogers?

Since I've started using Sitemeter, I've begun to wonder why so many people make internet searches on boogers.

If you've wandered onto this site looking for nasal detritus, snotters, or (as it were) boogers... I can't really help you. But I wish you all the best on your chosen path, anyway.

The weekend was pretty uneventful; all I can say is that the words "plucked chicken" will never be the same.

Moogie also had a chance to come online for a bit from somewhere in Iraq. It was really, really nice talking to him, but I was sad to see him go again with no idea when he'll next get a chance to get in contact. Such sweet sorrow, eh? I miss him.

This perpetual work-frown is giving me a headache.

"Not balls, kisses"

Greg started it, and it's all his fault. I am innocent. Honest!

Friday 5

Gina asked this week's question:

So, going back to the original source material responsible for "The Friday Five," Nick Hornby's High Fidelity, (and its source material, Desert Island Discs the show),

What are your top 5 "desert island" discs?

For those of us who have no idea about High Fidelity or desert island discs (or am I the only one?), a Google search seems to suggest that "desert island discs" are "what CDs would you take with you on a desert island discs". At least, I hope so.

1) For contemplation and to satisfy any need for poetry; CMX's 3-CD collection Cloaca Maxima, because CMX is one of the best music and definitely the best lyrics I have ever come across. Alas (for you), it's in Finnish. If only one disc is allowed, I'll take the Aetheris one (disc number two)

2) Something angry and energetic; The Matrix Soundtrack (the first one) - both for music and memories.

3) For fun; Chick Flick complilation. And if I can't have both of the double cd discs, I'll take disc one.

4) For chillout and feelgood; Salif Keita's album Folon... The past, for the sheer fact that the [most] beautiful track [in the world] Nyanyama is on the CD.

5) For the purpose of singing-to when the coconut shells have to be cleaned up; (What's The Story) Morning Glory? From Oasis.

Or, I would just do this. But that would be cheating.

Other Friday Fivers on the left-side bar.

Wohoo! Had a workout of over two hours at the gym yesterday and I'm not sore (yet)! I'm really getting into this training thing again; I just wish I could go more often and work harder.

Know the machine in which Bill Murray was stuck on in Lost in translation? Yeah, that one. I couldn't find a picture of it, because I don't know what it's called - I've named it Torture Device; friendly-like.

Isn't it time for lunch yet?

Yes, two counters on the left side bar. I'm testing Sitemeter for their reporting service thingy. I'm not obsessed, I just want new toys.

Updated: That's sorted; Nerdsonsite counter got the boot, because it counts my own visits.

There's also a new link up with a "cast of characters" for those who want to check who's who. It'll probably get more complex when I have the inspiration to do so...

Illegalise it already!!!

Only 301 spam mails in my inbox in five days. They're losing touch, obviously.

Spring cleaning

While poking around in the murkier parts in the cellars of my unorganised head, I came across a memory of a small blue duvet with large blue flowers. It's a very worn thing, very 70's pattern with not unpleasant texture and a warm smell to it. Unbidden, two accompanying visions emerged blinking from the folds.

One.
Hiding under the duvet in terror while mom and dad are arguing in the living room. I don't really recall this myself, but I have been told that when I was four, I used to crawl into my sister's bed on nights like this, and we'd whisper about plans of running away from home.

Two.
I had a routine for bedtime, in which I said "Minä rakastan sinua" (I love you) and mom answered "Niin minäkin sinua" (I love you, too). One night, mom and dad were out visiting someone, and I had to put myself to bed. I couldn't do it without my routine, so in my childish and wobbly handwriting I wrote my i-love-yous and other nightly things on the little note papers next to the telephone. My handwriting was so uncontrollable that it took several little notes to write all of the words down.
Later on, I pretended to be asleep under my duvet when mom came in and caressed my back over the duvet and whispered "Niin minäkin sinua."

Never say never, but...

The more I hear and see about motherhood (personal and social aspects) and children (at home and otherwise), the more convinced I am that I'm better off with a couple of dogs and good allergy medication.

[For the interested; the link that brought it up again: Mommy Myth book review (from Melissa); which has since been brewing for a while with added spices from various conversations, observations and other tidbits.]

[Tidbits such as conversation from yesterday on the dawn of mobile phones in schools, especially the camera ones. As a non-popular kid, could you think of a worse scenario than a photo of you from a changing room circulating the whole school?]

I miss Moogie.

Just so you know...

Which Silver Screen Siren are you?
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Just call me sickly off-white

This post by Greg reminded me of a story Moogie told me...

In the 70's a novel called Roots by Alex Haley came out, boasting about proud African heritage – this was later made into a film. Suddenly African Americans, i.e. blacks, had a rush to claim to be descendant of one tribe or another, not from New York or Chicago, but from a distant land none of them had ever seen. A friend of Moogie's told an illustrative story of his wife, a tall, blonde South African. She recently went to register her driver's licence, as you do, and on the form in the appropriate bit, she wrote down "African American". The woman behind the counter was black, and corrected her.
The South African girl said "No, it's correct; I'm from Africa, and now I am an American."
The woman refused to process her form because it was falsified, and she was African American; this girl clearly was not. Eventually, the manager had to be called out, and the situation explained to him.
The manager (white), said: "Wouldn't it just be easier to put down Caucasian, since you're not really African?"
The South African girl said: "I'm far more African than this bitch causing the trouble!"

No, I don't have a point to make at this moment in time, but I think it's a funny anecdote about a sort of reverse-racism anyway. And unfortunately I don't know what, in the end, went on the form.

By the way, the sweets which are called "negro's balls" in Denmark used to go by name of "negro's kisses" in Finland. I think the name's been changed since, as Finland, too, had to wake up to smell political correctness in the early 90's (?) when Somalian refugees started arriving to Finland.

I object!

There's no helping it. It was bound to happen sooner or later, but finally, there's no getting away from it... I must buy new clothes. My 2-T-shirt, 3-trouser system no longer works when I have to have separate clothes for going to the gym as well (at least until I've lost enough weight to use my old clothes again), and aside the fact that it's damn near impossible to find clothes to fit my size and shape, I completely object to the fashion content of today.

What was so bloody good about 80's that it had to be brought back? It had the worst fashion statements of the century; and what do I see when I dare exit the relative safety of my house? Pointy shoes, variety of 80's hairstyles back on the street (even Cat Eyes fell victim to her hairdresser's erring sense of style - don't worry, her hair is all better now), those horrible clothes that hang from all the wrong places and only fit skinny 6'6'' model-types, oh my god, the colours! Not only primary reds, blues and yellows are back, but bright green, for gods' sake, and the worst of all; neon colours.

Wasn't it bad enough the first time 'round? No, seriously.

70's, yeah, I can live with that. That's the kind of bad taste that looks kind of cool in a nerdy way. 90's - yeah, bring it on - at least I can buy a decent pair of shoes again. But 80's was just plain fake, and fake 80's style is... well, it's even faker.

Please. Spare me. I feel tempted to start dressing up in the style that's appropriate for Taliban women - it'd be all black, and I definitely wouldn't have to worry about hair or make up.

Other things:

• Prior to spell-checking this post, I never knew "acquittance" is spelled like that, I've always spelled it "acquitance". Live and learn. It also bugged the hell out of me I used that word twice in the aforementioned post. I'm obsessed about things like that.
  
  
• There's a man in my morning train who always has terrible trouble deciding which seat to take.
  
  
• I stand corrected about the gym separation. The gym we went to had special area for ladies training, and it could also be used by fat people and the elderly. Fair enough, I suppose
  
  
• I found that I'm in a horribly bad state. My BMI is 39 (or so) and my heart rate rocketed sky high just for walking on the treadmill for a minute or two. I don't feel bad, but all the numbers seem to be telling me that I'm risking my life just by walking up the stairs to work. Funny, that. Good thing I don't know what my blood pressure is.
  
  
• Going to the gym was great. It's totally de-stressing (except for all the machines telling me to slow down), but I want to push harder and work harder, all this sissy-walking to keep the heart rate down was just frustrating me. We (Valkyria and I) only managed to get a proper induction/program thingy for the 20th, so the next couple of weeks we'll be sticking to things we know, i.e. treadmill, bike, sit-ups and push-ups.
  
  
• I was ever so glad about the separate changing rooms for fat people. It was one of the most depressing things I've done for a long time to have to change in and out of training clothes in the middle of perfect-bodied naked women. Hmmm. That'll bring some interesting hits on my site, no doubt.
  

It makes me wonder about the world where there's supply and demand for gyms with separate training areas and changing rooms for fat people... In any case, that's where we'll be heading today.

Why is this song in me heid?

And it´s all for me grog,
Me jolly, jolly grog
All for me beer and tobacco
Well I spent all me tin on the lassies drinking gin
Across the western ocean I must wander!

Yay! 2

How sad was that? But I do love my new phone. Now, if only I could get it to send emails...

Something spooky just happened - my TV turned on by itself. There was nothing on the remote control (like yesterday when the same thing happened). I wonder if my phone communicates to my TV?

Yay!

ThisIsAmobilePhonePost

Blog Envy strikes again

This time it will fill up a whole post, since I myself don't have anything to say, here's some of my favourite blogs. [All blogs on my Blogrolling list are my favourite blogs for their each individual reasons.]

A Violently Executed Plan
Excellent political commentary, especially on the dark side of it. I like Adam's sense of humour, especially the dark side of it. Adam may one day rule the world, if only he gives in to the Dark Side...
Dirty Feet and Lilywhite Intentions
Original and insightful posts from life of Jules, who writes like an angel. You also have to admire a person who always has something good to say.
Eclexys
A smart and literate Canadian expatriate in Korea, Gord produces wonderful and well-argumented essays on various things on top of writing an interesting blog on his personal life.
Moron Abroad
A fairly new acquittance, this moronic blog is accompanied by an American expatriate living in Copenhagen. Greg posts about life in Denmark and writes well-researched stuff about a variety of things while keeping tabs on his to-be-parenthood. His Moron's Almanac is also worth a visit, especially for those of us in love with trivia.
Pogoetry
When Pogo takes the time to jot down a story, by eck he does it well! Oh, and the other stuff is nice too. [I'm kidding. Pogo's blog is always a good read, sometimes several times a day.]
Sarah Hatter Dot Com
Another new acquittance, this is a blog of Sarah, who has attracted a suspicious crowd in her comments box. Other than that, this journal is a pleasure to read.
Wherever You Are
Vaughan blogs from London, and even if he claims to post "entries [which are] tedious and full of navel-gazing rhetoric", don't buy into that. Good reading from another great blogger who's practically oozing with talent.

There are others - most of my Blogrolling list, really* - but the above list stands out by the sheer talent of the writers [literary- and content-wise]. My blogroll is constantly changing as I find new web logs and stop reading others**, so by next week the above list is probably hopelessly outdated.

I will now risk rejection and utter public embarrassment on account of an empty comment box, and request that you, whoever you are, recommend a good blog. I dare you. You can even plug your own. Go on. No, really.... please?


*I keep one or two non-active blogs on in hope that they will pick up the habit again.

**Usually for no particular reason. Sometimes because I got bored. Sometimes because they stopped updating regularly. Occasionally because the voices told me so.

"This is too much," Moogie said, and I'm wondering if "this" is the air conditioning or my depressive outlook on things. Or something else entirely. It's hard to tell, sometimes, and I'm constantly suffering from randomised guilt.

Friday 5

Melissa asks today's question.

Who are your top 5 fictional crushes? (Fictional characters you've had crushes on.)

Heh. Almost too easy; I've always got my nose down some book or another, and if not that I'm daydreaming away. There's nothing like escapism to take you away from the everyday world.*

1) Evil Spike from Buffy the Vampire Slayer. There's something about that skinny blond Billy Idol type with badly faked British accent... So bite me.

2) Louis from Interview With the Vampire (Anne Rice). The dark, brooding type.

3) Elric Melnibonéan of the Stormbringer (Michael Moorcock). The unearthly, dark, brooding type. With white hair and an impressive, soul-eating sword.

4) The Crow (James O'Barr). Another dark, brooding type with capacity for immortal love. Sweet.

5) Sandman, Morpheus. A dark brooding immortal.

Is it just me, or is there a pattern emerging?

*Yes, I know it's the same thing. I was trying to be funny.

You know that bit in Lost in Translation where she calls her friend to talk about her life and these really important things? I just had a conversation with mom almost exactly like in the film.

Ho hum...

The atmosphere in the office is tilting towards hysterical today, and there's a lot of long looks shot our way from the team sitting across the corridor from us. Valkyria sits two desks from me, with Cat Eyes in the middle:

Valkyria: "Laura, about this claim thing, do you want me..." *trails away, reading something on the screen*
Laura: *in a foreign accent* "Yes Valkyria, I want you."
Valkyria: *peeks from behind the monitor, speaks in sultry voice* "Oh, come here my little marshmallow!"
Laura: *nearly falls off the chair in hysterics* "I think I just wet my chair!"

Need I say more? In spite of the current workload, I'll almost be sorry to have the bitches back to work next week and have to retreat into the metaphorical cave behind the earphones.

Through thick and thin, and all that

So when I bought the phone yesterday, I asked the clerk to (please) tell me the manual was in English, and he assured me so. Well, I got home, and opened the phone, which was speaking Danish to me.

Incidentally, I have no idea what "phone settings" is in Danish.

No panic, I says to myself, and pulled out the pack of manuals. There were four of them, of which none was in English; instead I had them in all Nordic languages. Lucky I speak Finnish eh?? I eventually got the phone to make sense by comparing the Finnish manual to the Danish one, and the Danish manual to the phone.

Valkyria says I'm the unluckiest person in the world for meeting unprofessional people in Denmark. I feel inclined to agree, though there's no harm done in this case.

[I probably should start believing in bad karma. When I bought the mp3 player and tried to pay for it, the clerk's machine broke down and I (and the long queue behind me) had to wait for her to reboot it. Yesterday, the phone-selling-clerk's machine stopped working when he was trying to print the service provider's contract for me, and I was asked to carry on with my shopping until they figured out how to fix it. I swear, I never touched the thing!]

[Must be my animal magnetism.]

New toys

I spend a few intensive hours to burn some of this years' bonus, and among other things I have a nifty new phone, and my niece and nephew are getting a camera and a portable cd-player (respectively) for their birthdays [am i the nicest aunt, or what?]. Anyway, I sat in the train afterwards surrounded by all this materialistic glory and listening to music on that new mp3 player [which is pretty nifty, too], when a tiny old woman sat opposite to me. She had probably no teeth at all, and her clothes were pretty filthy (but otherwise nice enough), her nose was running unchecked and she sat there, sucking her gums, and I just felt so bad and felt like crying. I dunno; pathetic old people affect me that way. You'd never see me in tears over a baby - maybe I should adopt a granny instead.

However, since I have a new phone, which doesn't die every 15 seconds, I'm now a better person and keep in touch with my family. (Well, I have to. To get the phone for the price I got it for, I had to sign up to pay 200 kr every month for calls. It'd be silly not to use the call-time.) Total Karma Level: neutral

Pull the other one

I realise that getting a doctor's note for those sick days is a pain in the ass, but there bloody well should be some control over the Wee Bitch's absence. She was off on holiday last week and on Wednesday we heard she was ill [this is how we knew not to expect her to work for Monday], on Monday she makes a brief pre-hours visit to work, suddenly gets a fever, goes back home. Today she called in and said not to expect her for the rest of the week.

Some fever, eh?

Deep sigh.

Estne volumen in toga, an solum tibi libet me
videre?
"Is that a scroll in your toga, or are you
just glad to see me?"
You're smooth, okay, but you also need a
girlfriend. Bad.


Which Weird Latin Phrase Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla

[link via Adam]

The Interview game

Well, how could I resist being interviewed by the wonderful and witty Jules?
The rules are, if you wants to be interviewed, leave a comment and ask me to, and in return when you answer to the questions provided, you'll offer to interview other people.

1.) You are so incredible that people are clamoring to write your biography. I have been begging and pleading to be the one to write it and you have finally decided to let me do so. However, you want me to agree to use a title you've already chosen. It's important to you. You are convinced that it sums up your life quite nicely and will make the right kind of people want to delve into the book that is you. That title is...

"Approaching sanity from the other side." Sorry. I already used it on my blog because I'm fond of it and my own apparent cleverness.

2.) I have just kidnapped you and taken you to The Bow Bow (a karaoke bar in Chinatown). After consuming a bowl full of spicy dried peas and too many Flaming Lemondrops, you have consented to try your hand at a couple of songs. The songbook has been passed to you. What is the first title you look for, and which of the following three songs would I be most likely to convince you to sing with me: a) Desperado b) Sweet Child of Mine c) Rainy Day Women?

I'd first look for "Perfect" by Fairground Attraction; it's one of the only songs I can sing along to, and I've some very fond memories of singing along to it in karaoke bars in Scotland. No, thank god, I was nowhere near an actual microphone.

Uhh, I admit my ignorance and choose to sing Sweet Child of Mine, because that'd the only song I know out of the three. Better keep that vodka running, lady, because I can't sing to save my life. It shall be painful.

3.) After a late night with a house full of friends, you wake to the ringing telephone at 7:30 a.m. It's your parents. They're just down the street, and thought they'd surprise you with an unexpected visit. They've picked up breakfast and will be at your place in about five minutes. Do you a) happily hurry to get dressed b) cringe c) rush around your house, attempting to make it presentable. And if your answer is (c), what is the first thing you clean/hide?

I'd cringe. But I've no secrets as such from my parents (they had to admit defeat by the time I moved out of home), so they'd know to expect anything if they called me at such a short notice.


4.) My son G.T. spent much of his free time when he was nine on his plans for a time machine. I assumed he abandoned the project when he discovered girls last year, but I just found out that he has continued his work and come up with something. Now he can't transport a person back through time (not yet anyway) but he has devised a way to pass mail through this machine. Because I like you, I will give you one chance, and I will have G.T. use his Time Machine to deliver one letter for you. When do you want it sent? To whom? And what will it say?

My head hurts. I don't think I have anything important to say to anything, really, in this time or any other. But since you are willing to do me such honour... Hmmm.
[insert gap of about a week here]
After much cogitation I decided to write to John Lennon and try to prevent him from getting killed and preserve the life of a brilliant musician and great ideologist... But then I came to my senses and decided I would write to my parents a couple of weeks ago with the lottery numbers for Saturday. I think they deserve it, and I know this action isn't without it's personal benefits.
I should be ashamed.


5.) If I (or your friends, family, lost loves, readers, etc.) Googled your real name, what would we find? you or imposter yous? Is your name so unusual or secret that nothing would come up at all? And and if there are "other yous", what are they like? Would you be horrified by being mistaken for them? Explain.

You'd find a single, obscure reference to a girl who, apparently, likes to work with old people. She studies in a Christian institute in Finland, and took part in a project about people in old people's homes. This woman is radiating the basic lauraness... Women with my first name tend to be, for some reason, blonde and tall, and peaceful of nature.
I am, of course, short, round and very un-blonde (questions of intelligence aside), and wouldn't like to be likened to the other kind of Lauras. What would anyone think if they thought I was the kind of person who studied in a religious institute and liked to go visit old people in old people's homes? The horror! I have a reputation to upkeep.
However, should you wish to Google "green boogers" my blog is the number one result. That just says it all, doesn't it?

Bah humbug

No, today's not a good day, either.

Bad apple

Argh!! At the moment I can't think of anything more annoying than products which advertise themselves as "mac compatible" - yeah, right!

Stick the installation cd in, and find that all files are .exe and .dll which mac has absolutely no use for.

Proceed to the manufacturer's website. Download the items which the manual instructs mac users to download. Find out that these files too are for Windows only. Swear.

Look up the "e-mail us" bit. Find that this part of the site has script errors. Groan. Swear some more.

Look up the help chat (which is only meant for US citizens). The chat seems to work... A representative comes online, present your problem to him. He apologises, says it's not his department, offers to make a trouble report. Ask if you should contact the "other products" chat. "With a problem like this," he advises you to call the customer service instead. Uh, right? The guys in the product help chat don't know where to download the drivers..?

Fine. Wait until next day with your new toy to call the customer service.

No, seriously. Wouldn't you think that the people who make these products would bloody know the difference in software requirements before they go 'round claiming to work on the good old Apple? Arse.

So I went to the Philips website to look for the link to show you my new mp3 player (which is this close to getting a return trip to the store!), and as I click the link to the Consumer Electronics page I'm greeted with --- Danish! And no way to change the language. They think they're so smart, bunch of twats...

[Did I mention I went through the same process with my digital camera, which still doesn't work on the mac?]

I want to go back

Saalbach at twilight

My only digital photo from Austria. The slope in the picture is 4 km long, red and black, at points almost vertical and starts at height of 2020 meters. The black bits are mainly trees. The blue/grey bits are mainly snow, except for the bits that are sky. A-yup.

Nobody said thank you, mummy!

...Said my niece while staying in Finland, she's three now and was holding out a door to people. I'm applauding, but at the same time still amazed that a kid that age knows her manners better than grown-ups. [Actually, the phenomena is universally Scandianvian - can you say that? - so it's really not just Danes that are rude].

Just now on Saturday I saw a woman drop some credit cards at the cinema, and when I pointed it out to her she never said anything at all, just bend over to pick them up. I responded by saying "You're welcome" but that, too, failed to initiate any reaction.

The worrying thing is that it's rubbing off on me... I can only hope that it's fixable when I leave the country!

And then again, I get kicks out of getting to practise what I like to think of as my "icy stare". A kid of about 10 was literally standing with his belly against my back (or my backpack, to be fair) this morning while waiting to get in to the train. It was equally satisfying to have him take two steps back at the sheer terrifying force of The Look [insert "hah!" here with head flicked back] - at least, so I like to think.

I win...

Yep. She has apparently been in but left again - "fever and cold sores in the face" Big surprise. Our next bet will be on whether she'll make an appearance this week or not.

But why would she come in if she had a fever, and leave again before anyone else got in? There's something for us to ponder...

You can send those ten pound notes to a charity of your choise if you were betting otherwise. Hah.

Bets, anyone?

It's 8:45 AM on the day Wee Bitch is supposed to come back to work. We heard news on Wednesday last week that she was ill - is she going to show up?

Ten quid says she won't...