The Other World

Kinda self-explanatory title... In a couple of hour I'm officially and undeniably twenty-two years old. Yeeha.

And since I have absolutely no one to give me a hug today, I guess the smiley will have to do.

I had a therapist appointment again. She seems to think that I scare many a potential friend away with my opinions and my poisonous tongue, especially male ones. Well, one can always hope. I don't really even want to befriend straight men, anyway. I think they're scum and way much inferior to me that they can fuck off. Judging by their reaction, they would have very little to give me, anyway.

- - -

I cried last night like a child. Not because it would have been a miserable day; no, I got the sai (see the picture below) via mail and I went to Combat as usual and enjoyed them both enormously. I cried because with a little help from the phone book I realised something about Her, something I had never even considered before. The phone book says in her address there lives another one with the same last name. My first thought: it's her mother. Then I checked the name and realised it a male name. Okay, I thought, it's her father. After that: it's probably just a coincidence (yeah, right). And when it hit me, it hit me hard: what if She's married and just doesn't wear the ring? It's possible; according to my grandmother Tarja Halonen doesn't wear her wedding ring (I have never paid any attention to whether or not she wears the bloody ring, but my Christian grandmother seems to find it blasphemous; funny since you would think Halonen being an atheist would be a bigger offense towards my grandmother's strict god than not wearing a ring).

But somehow the mere possibility of Her being married... I found it devistating. So I cried. Against a pillow I hoped would have been Her lap, with a blanket drawn over my head I hoped would have been Her warm hand on my hair... Her without questions about why I'm crying, just being there comforting me.

Someone screwed up and my cancelling notice to the practise place at the hospital was ignored. I got a phone call from the other person in my class attending the same ward wondering where I was. Well, I was lying in my bed just waking up and observing if the rash on my arm had gone better over night or if I had to go and show it to a doctor (it's getting better, but I will not use that particular hair remover again). I sent another e-mail to the coordinator ten minutes ago; we'll see where this went wrong. Anyway, I have to remember to phone the ward myself later today and apologise for whoever forgot to notify them of my forthcoming absence.

http://www.freerice.com/

This is a game in which you get a word and then choose its correct synonym. For each word you get right, the advertiser at the bottom of the page pays for ten grains of rice. There are fifty different levels of difficulty in the game, starting from English beginners all the way to words that challenge even university professors. My advice to you: unless you're trying to boost your ego, don't use a dictionary or Google. You get the ten grains no matter what the difficulty level. If you do as I did and use that bloody dictionary, you get stuck on words from level 47 to 50. Sure, I learned a few words I'm going to try to get in my school essays just for the sake of showing off (or to say publicly that I would like to go ans see an ecdysiast one day..), but it's nicer if you have your own level and can actually think for yourself and acquire a higher level of vocabulary.

My score today: two thousand grains.

Oh, and by the way: how many of you had katzenjammer this morning? I didn't. =)

"Sinä elät kuolemanpelossa,
se on varmaa,
että palat helvetintulessa."

Timo Rautiainen & Trio Niskalaukaus: Kuusikymmentäkaksi

I have never understood one thing that seems to be a dominating mentallity towards the subject: why do people think dying is the worst punishment?

I don't think it is. To me death is when I can cease to exist in every way, no afterlife, no hell, no paradise, no nothing. Just perfect oblivion, non-excistence. I can think of a thousand things that are worse than that, a life in which a person's dignity has been stolen, for instance.

Maybe there is an afterlife. Maybe after death we go to whatever we believed in when we were alive. Christians go to hell or to heaven, Muslims to paradise and whatever its counterpart is, atheists go nowhere. Or maybe there is some diety that is able to forgive everything and lets everyone, pious Christians, suicide bombers, homosexuals, rapists, loving mothers and fathers, go to same place despite the things they did on Earth. I hope not. Whatever the option, I do not want to share ever again the same place with the scum of the earth, the people who ill-treat innocent people in the most horrific ways just because they can and more importantly know they get away with it, or even get a higher status among their peers as a result.

Think of their victims. There are worse things than death, and we see it on the news every single day. How can people not see that?

I just got back home from the convalescent home I've been doing my practise for the past three weeks. The result: from now you may address the future (university???) teacher/translator. Now I have tried nursing and even though it could have been worse, my instructor was right when she said I lack motivation.

Hence I will from now on concentrate on my academic career, just like I said in the entry I wrote after the very first day three weeks ago.

YIPPII! I'LL GET TO GO BACK HOME TO THE UNIVERSITY!!!

- - -

"Baby, I don't understand
why we can't just hold on to each others' hands
This time might be the last, I fear,
unless I make it all too clear
I need you so

Take these broken wings,
and learn to fly again,
learn to live so free
And when we hear the voices sing,
the book of love will open up and let us in

Take these broken wings

Baby, I think tonight,
we can take what was wrong and make it right
Baby, it's all I know, that you're half of the flesh
And blood that makes me whole, I need you so

Take these broken wings,
you've got to learn to fly
Learn to live, love so free
And when we hear the voices sing,
the book of love will open up and let us in

Baby, it's all I know, that you're half of the flesh
And blood that makes me whole, so

Take these broken wings,
you've got to learn to fly
Learn to live your life so free
And when we hear the voices sing
The book of love will open up for us and let us in"

'Broken wings'
Originally performed by Mr. Mister;
The cover I'm listening to by Northern Kings and sung by The King of Catchy Melodies, Tony Kakko.

Okay, I'm going to do it although I thought I shouldn't because there's nothing new I can bring to this discussion.

Tehy. We know the government is seriously lacking any respect towards nurses. When the doctors went on strike there were no more bodies than usually, but when the people doing all the practical work want to do the same it's the end of the world. And this methodology that has been used... threating, blackmail and bribing. The media and the authorities keep going on about how nursing is a calling and therefore automatically with a low payment. I agree with Kaarina Hazard: "Although the media attempts to create panic by flashing picctures of pre-mature babies in numerous tubes, the texts beneath the pictures tell that the parents are are standing by nurses. That's solidarity if something!" The excuses we keep hearing from the government have more holes than cheese; the fact is that they just don't care to raise the payment of areas that mainly consist of female workers. And the bill they're designing to force people to work... it would undermine the essential ide of democracy if every other field of employment the workers are allowed to fight for their rights except nurses. And yet, at the same time, they work on a bill to have extra budgeting to invest 140 million euros on Finnair stocks. What is fair and reasonable is apparently highly subjective in finances...

My practise is going to go straight to hell if they resign since there won't be any nurses to mentor us students. We don't know how we can make it up, or if we have to use our summer holiday for that.

- - -

I had an appointment with the psychologist for the third time earlier today. I may be a creep and an unsocial weirdo but she's fucking insane! She actually seems to think of me stupid enough to follow that downright ridiculous suggestion of hers. No, no, no! I have no intentions to force myself on complete strangers for a fleeting chance to befriend them. It is not natural for me to go talking to strangers without a bloody good reason! I'm suicidal, we know that, but even I have self-protective instincts and they are screaming! And it's awkward. I can't go to a half-empty café, pick a person randomly, go to their table and ask if it's okay I sit there and start talking about the weather!!! I mean, come on!!! (There are not enough excalmation marks I can put here to emphasise how enraging the mere idea is!!!) If someone did that to me I would come up with the feeblest excuse to get the hell out of the situation. And the suggestion to go to the gym sauna and start talking to someone there!!! I DON'T WANT TO TALK TO STRANGERS EVEN WITH MY CLOTHES ON, LET ALONE WITHOUT ANY KIND OF PSYCHOLOGICAL SHIELD THE COVERING CLOTHES PROVIDE!!! And theatre... people go there in clicks and groups, one is *not* to force themselves on them!!! They don't want my company, and they don't want to get to know to me, and they most certainly couldn't care less about my opinions of the performance!

I'm telling you, she's the insane one. And she even had the nerve to tease me about the . It was a fucking accident! The other way was blocked, the other wasn't, and when I used the open way and came across with Her naked... IT WAS AN ACCIDENT!

- - -

My new theme song - 'The creep'

When you were here before,
Couldn't look you in your eye
You're just like an angel,
Your skin makes me cry

You float like a feather
In a beautiful world
I wish I was special
You're so fucking special

But I'm a creep,
I'm a weirdo
What the hell am I doin' here?
I don't belong here

I don't care if it hurts,
I wanna have control
I want a perfect body
I want a perfect soul

I want you to notice
when I'm not around
You're so fucking special
I wish I was special

But I'm a creep
I'm a weirdo
What the hell am I doin' here?
I don't belong here

She's running out again
She's running out
She's running....
run run run run run...

Whatever makes you happy
Whatever you want
You're so fucking special
I wish I was special

But I'm a creep,
I'm a weirdo
What the hell am I doin' here?
I don't belong here

I don't belong here...

(T. Yorke/E. O'Brien/C. Greewood/J. Greenwood/P. Selway/A. Hammond/M. Hazelwood)

My mother had a cerebral stroke today. She's alive, but I don't know if the physical changes can be retrieved.

I think I'm beginning to get enough of this year.

The gym ceiling... we are far too eager to overlook its sublime architecture. It's really, very, truly, bluely fascinating...

Trust me, I know what I'm talking about. I have, after all, been staring it twice already. Always so enticing. Throroughly intriguinging. Really.

:D

Guess what yours truly did this morning (read: around eleven a.m.) after waking up, dragging herself half-asleep to the kitchen and glancing to the window without glasses? Screamed and ran to the balcony to make sure my eyes didn't betray me and that there actually was snow on the ground. I'm sure I said the same thing last year but I just love winter!

Imagine a freezing winter night on a countryside. The sky is perfectly clear and you can see the stars and make out all the constellations that disappear amidst all the lights in the town. The moon is full, and you see it light coming to rest on fields of untouched snow. Surrounding the blue, gleaming veils of snow there is a dark forest, the outline of which is barely visible against the dark blue firmament. Perhaps somewhere from afar you hear a wolf's howl or an owl's hoot breaking the otherwise still night. You feel lonely, but content. It's a rare kind of happiness.

- - -

:P

Another thing that has arrived is -as you have all undoubtedly noticed by now- is Christmas. It feels so ridiculous to queue in a store with advent calendars piled up next to the line. Why do they have to put all the Christmas stuff on display in mid-October? I just don't get it. Christmas comes as a surprise to everyone every single year and gathering chocolates, and lots of green and red things two months beforehand is not going to change that.

This Christmas is going to be odd. Until now, we've had a certain routine over the holidays: me and my sister (who have both moved out long ago) go and spend Christmas with the rest of the family, we clean the house, bake and cook, wonder if Father is going to be sober on 24th, and count minutes to the moment (eight p.m.) we are allowed to begin opening our presents, and the next day we go eat the Great Christmas Dinner and participate in the Great Family Gathering with pretty much every single relative. Now... the family has been divided in two after Father's suicide (although I'm beginning to understand why my grandmother choice to call Mother a murderer; days before, as she went there to gather her last things to move out for good, she had screamed at Father what a mockery of a man he was since he couldn't even kill himself...). On the other hand I have no intentions none whatsoever to forsake Father's parents (no matter how badly our world views contradict), and on the other hand I don't want to abandon Mother, either. But since the two are not in speaking terms and practically hate each others' guts... well, I don't have a driver's licence so I can't be at Mother's on 24th and then go to my grandparents' for the dinner the following day, especially since Mother has undoubtedly already promised her own mother that she and the children will go there for the 25th's dinner. Well, at least I turned down her proposition of going to Egypt for Christmas (out of the question!!! I want snow and The Snowman and the cemetery visits and the candles and the tree and the darkness for Christmas, goddamit!!!).

Some improvement, though: this year Mother at least asked me if I was going to come and stay at her place over the holidays. Until now she has already taken my presence for granted, as if I couldn't possibly have any other plans.

- - -

:O

Oh, and by the way, a quote of something I heard at work today: "Mika ei tunne yhtä vahvasti kuin minä." I solemnly swear, I actually believed phrases like that were just clichés from over-sentimental American romantic comedies and only used to mock that particular genre, *n e v e r* to be used perfectly seriously in an actual conversation by a woman. I'm shocked.