Every year. Why do I have to go there every year? Fuck I'm going, not after today.
She was nice and clear when we spoke for five minutes in the beginning but the examination... I feel like I've been raped. I'm sore and I hate myself for not being able to tell her to be more gentle, that not everyone is used to being penetrated like that, with or without lubricant. And the way she "dug" with that ultrasound dildo.. that really hurt.
And for this merriment I got to pay sixty euros.
Fuck I'm going to a single gynaecologist again until I have a bloody good reason to!
- - -
Right, the Gratefulness Project... Fine, I'm now so very grateful for being one more day closer to autumn/university/Polytechnic/my death... take a pick (hint: the extremes are my favourites at the moment).
I'm grateful that my inner alarm clock works and is on time.
This morning I woke up at 6.16. I have, however, a very clear picture in my head that I set my alarm clock to wake me at five a.m. as usual during my morning shift week. But for some reason it didn't go off as planned. When I looked at the clock more closely I noticed it was set to wake up at eight hundred hours sharp.
Okay, maybe I accidentally pressed '8' instead of '5' but I can't help to have that clear picture of the clock showing '05:00'. I don't know, maybe I *did* mess it up and somehow convince myself otherwise. Hell, maybe I changed the time in my sleep! I'm known to have done lots of nocturnal wanderings asleep when I was a kid so I suppose it's theoretically possible, albeit unlikely, that I sleepwalked. I think I'll put the clock out of my reach tonight. And yes, I know I should be sleeping already but the gynaecologist tomorrow is making me anxious again. On the other hand I'm looking forward to knowing what's wrong and what I can do about it, but then again the situation keeps giving me chills, in a negative sense of the word.
And now I have to write the list of the questions I have for the gynaecologist; if I don't I'm bound to forget them once I step in that building.
Last Friday, on my way home from work somewhere around eleven in the evening, Argo broke down. Literally: the sadle is so rusty it just broke. And since the sadle couldn't bear any weight (let alone mine) on it, I had to pedal standing. Alas, the pedals have not been designed to bear continuous standing so the other of the pedals just fell off while cycling in front of the police station. I believe whoever was on guard that evening has lots of nice footage on their security cameras of yours truly stopping quickly, slowly putting the cycle lay on the ground, walking calmly to the fallen pedal lying on the street, lifting it up and then scream. I can assure you, walking on a warm Friday night over an hour home in Finland... I probably looked so pissed that even drunkards could see amidst their alcohol veil not to come and share their drunken wisdom with me.
Anyway, this morning my mother brought me a new bike. Well, technically its my sister's but she has a car for the time being so I can borrow the bike. And since she will be moving in the Land of the Rising Son this month (she'll be studying in the university, too; I go, she comes instead - the teachers have got to be thrilled...) I get to use the bike until she hits the town. She's been having trouble finding a sensibly priced flat sensibly near the university. I don't think ever realised how lucky I was to find a cheap room in a trio five minutes away from the university.
In a nutshell: I'm grateful for a bike that works!
- - -
And now, time to continue with Crunch and Cortex. I had trouble determining what exactly I'm expected to do there, but thank heavens for an excellent boss guide at VU Games!
(Damn, I'm tired... three hours of sleep... well, at least I'm more likely to get in bed tonight in time: I'll have my final week at work beginning tomorrow at six thirty.)
Splenetic
Unbelievable, but true: the Faculty of Humanities has actually managed to put all the timetables on the web! Therefore, I have been able to determine the scheduling of the courses that I'm taking at the university this autumn and next spring. Now I know that there are four hours during ten weeks next autumn when I'll have to be physically present in the university. The figure doubles during the spring but by then I'll be familiar with the system at the Polytechnic so I'll be able to sort out all the missing hours with the teachers then.
It may beat out of habit, just because it still can. But that's all. My heart no longer motivates me to do anything: I just do things -go to the gym, write here, wake up- out of habit. I have no flame, no spark left.
I wish I could just leave. But would it change anything? The reasons behind my urge to leave, would they just come someplace else with me? Would the change of scenery change anything within myself?
What if I didn't leave. Or continue here. My only motivation, the one that keeps me going from one day to another, is routine. No, work. Going to work, earning my own income, securing my independence, that's my motivation. Or was, at least. Right now I don't feel I'm worth much, nor is anything I do. This world is not a bit better place for me having been in it, and I seriously doubt that is going to be any different in the future either. So why bother?
Today I forced myself to cook, for the first time in two weeks. For the past fourteen days I haven't eaten much. I haven't really even been hungry. Like nothing tastes anything anymore, or doing something is a huge accomplishment and requires me to force myself to do it. Last night I had trouble reading; even that didin't give me any satisfaction. I haven't been listening to Sonata Arctica whole week; even they can't make me feel better.
Why can't I just feel angry, if nothing else?
- - -
The Meme of the Day:
The Gratitude Project. The idea is to name one thing you're grateful for each day. The blog I got this from connects the Project with the period of time between two religious holidays, but since I'm not religious I'll just take two weeks. For two weeks from today on (11th of August through 24th of August) I will name one thing I can feel even a little grateful for each day.
Day 1: I'm grateful for the existence of the magnificent band Sonata Arctica, who help me to survive this life until I'm free.
"Kuten monet jo tietävät, kitaristimme Jani Liimatainen on ollut poissa yhtyeen rivistöstä koko kevään ja kesän. Syynä on ollut hänen "kikkailunsa" varusmies-/siviilipalvelus/vankila -velvollisuuden hoitamisen kanssa. Tai enemmänkin asian totaalinen hoitamattomuus.
Janin ja muiden jäsenten välille kehittyi tämän ja muiden siihen liittyvien seikkojen myötä railo, jonka täyttäminen ilman Janin apua ja myötävaikutusta kävi ylivoimaiseksi.
Täten ilmoitamme seuraavaa: Janin henkilökohtainen tilanne ja toiminta on ajanut meidät viime syksyn ja kevään 2007 aikana tilanteeseen, jossa meillä ei ole muuta vaihtoehtoa kuin erottaa Jani yhtyeestä.
Janille on ilmoitettu asiasta jo toukokuussa ja irtisanominen tapahtui yhteisymmärryksessä Janin kanssa. Halusimme antaa Janille mahdollisuuden saada elämänsä järjestykseen ennen asian julkistamista. Siksi ilmoitus annetaan vasta nyt.
"Show must go on", joten nöyränä tosiasioiden edessä ilmoitamme täten, että Elias Viljanen on tästä päivämäärästä eteenpäin Sonata Arctican virallinen, täysivaltainen jäsen. Elias on kesän aikana todistanut moneen otteeseen olevansa kyvykäs täyttämään Janin jättämät suuret saappaat.
Toivomme ystäviemme ja fanien ymmärtävän tilanteessa tekemämme ratkaisun ainoaksi mahdolliseksi, jotta yhtyeemme voi jatkaa toimintaansa. Sonata Arctica on aina ollut enemmän kuin osiensa summa ja tulee aina olemaan. Yhtyeestä on tullut meille elämäntapa ja henkireikä, jota ei yksinkertaisesti voi tukkia.
Edessä on pitkä "Unia" -kiertue. Toivotamme Eliaksen lämpimästi tervetulleeksi Sonata perheeseen ja toivomme fanien tekevän samoin! Sonata Arctica on jälleen kokonainen.
Nähdään tienpäällä!
parhain terveisin,
~Tony, Tommy, Marko ja Henrik"
If I said this came as a total surprise, I would be lying. But in spite of this we are to have a silent moment to honour Jani's contribution to the evolution of Sonata Arctica, on record as well as on stage.
I dreamt about my father last night. This was the first time in a very long time, even before his death. In my dream he was alive; he had done something while he was drunk, something that had gone terribly wrong. The accident had resulted in my mother being in a very poor condition physically, possibly with plenty of broken bones or something. I put her laying on the grass and covered her with a blanket. At this point my father came from a house across the lawn, swaying and muttering something like he used to do when he was alive and drunk. He kept trying to go to my mother but I went to him and pushed him away, and the more he tried to go pass me, the more violently I kept pushing him away. Finally he limped away with crutches.
I woke up sweaty (mainly due to the imbearable heat). It was so weird: at one moment he was drunk in front of me, the next I'm awake and know that he will never be in front of me again, and I'm not sorry for that. He terrorised me ever since I was a child, now he will do that no more, ever again. I guess I could say I'm finally free to deal with my childhood. Writing a one-sided (i.e. negative) story about him won't psobably classify as grieving, but I don't care. I need to get this out of my system before it pollutes my mind for good and turns me into someone like him (although I already carry that likelihood in my genetic make-up in that alcoholism gene).
- - -
The Meme of the Day:
This one is for you, my father. I still hate you for what you made me. I'm not ready to forgive you for anything yet, but at the present time I feel that someday I'll be able to.
To my fucking drunk father, 'Six feet under the ground' by Deathlike silence. Bottoms up.
"Now it's gone, you're alone
Sleeping there on your own
Days gone by, slowly die
In the endless dream of time
Cloaced in the velvet of an endless night,
surrounded by your only friend, sweet silence.
You sleep at the end of the black rainbow
Six feet under the ground
Your sleep is death your dreams just a void
Your memories all gone with the wind
You lie deep down in the dark
Six feet under the ground"
Anxious. More anxious. Really, truly, bluly anxious. What if she's horrible, insensitive? What if something's wrong without me even sensing it? What if? Knowledge may bring suffering, but not knowing definitely does.
Anyway, with this in mind I bought an interesting book I've read about earlier this year: 'The Story of V' by Catherine Blackledge. I have to admit that the pink cover keeps appaling me. The original name of the book appears to be anatomically correct; the Finnish translation 'Vaginan tarina' is not. It's vulva, people, not vagina!!! How many times does this have to be said until we get rid of this male-and-straight-sex-centred misunderstanding and realise that vulva is the superordinate concept and vagina is its subordinate p a r t? The picture section in the middle has a nice picture of two bonobo (the monkey) females having sex; a male who would apparently want to join them is ignored with an intense eye contact between the two females. ;)
I also found a book to help my self-understanding. Surprisingly enough, this one deals with alcoholism and other drug addictions and their effect on those close to the abuser. There's a section dedicated to the latest discoveries in medicine and psychiatry to help e.g. alcoholists; I'm not sure I want, at least yet, to read of all the things I might have done to help my father instead of making it worse (nice, now I sound like I'm blaiming myself of his alcoholism; that's what my grandmother told us, to behave better and our father wouldn't have to abuse alcohol).
And I was so sure I would be The Woman Who Loved to Make Vaginas Happy! Damn.
And by the way: if you haven't yet read the book in question or seen the play, you should whether you're a male or a female, straight or gay. We all have to come in close contact with one at least once in a lifetime (well, unless you were born with a Caesarian section, of course).
I'm stuck. I've been playing Crash Bandicoot: The Wrath of Cortex for several days now, and at the present time I'm very much stuck with the wind elemental Lo-Lo. I don't get it; what is it that I do wrong? I keep doing as before but this time Crunch health bar just won't decrease. i can't even spend time getting gold relics since I don't have the Crash Dash yet.
Okay, let's just try again. Good that I have a night shift tomorrow. We wouldn't want work to interfere with my obsessive-compulsive playing habits, now would we? ;)
And if you understood nothing of the previous, don't worry, I'm just trying to by writing about the situation. After all, not all of us have the brain size of a planet.. or even brains inside a weird-shaped, yellow, half-bald head with a black N on the forehead.
The title is, by the way, a quote from the baddie of the game series, Dr. Neo Cortex (the one on the right in the picture below).
- - -
The Meme of the Day:
"One night, and one more time
Thanks for the memories
Even though they weren't so great
He tastes like you only sweeter"
'Thanks for the memories' by Fall Out Boy
I think I like this song more now than before; a mainstream song sung by a man with this kind of chorus. Not bad..
