Wut is luv, part 3

(read part 1 here and part 2 here)

On this random moment in time I have a strange creature roaming around my life called the boyfriend. I haven't used that word in such a long time that it feels so weird to use it now. In this very moment, I'm in a relationship. Is it there tomorrow? It's hard to tell, but I hope so.

This is new. We've been going out for only couple of months but we've already met each others families and few friends. We've bonded, entwined, with great hunger. We've talked about the future with such extravaganza that the relationship coach in my head tells me to slow down.

I wanted to put all words about love on a ban list. Because I could tell it was a monster that was trying to escape his lips. I've heard the words before and I'm very sceptical towards them. Especially Dragonborn left few nasty scars saying he loves me, almost making me say it too, and then giving up on us suddenly and as suddenly finding another girl. What even is love.

But maybe it's not the scar that creates the problems. Maybe it's the overthinking. Maybe it's me. I don't go with the flow of feelings. I don't let myself go overboard because I'm scared that that would be rushing things and rushing tends to fuck up a relationship.

Lately I've been thinking about love a lot again. I've been wondering if I ever told anyone that I love them without meaning it. And here I mean love as I see it today. Everlasting and strong. Not just falling in love but giving a piece of my heart to someone. I don't believe you can stop loving someone, and these two things I compare, have I told someone I love them without loving them anymore this day. If I get to stretch it a little and think about the person they were when I said it, then the answer is no. I've never said I love you to anyone I didn't still love this day. But I don't love the person they've become or what they are today necessarily - that's the stretch.

The people I've told I love them can probably be counted by fingers only. It's not many. I don't think I've ever told my mom I love her. I do, of course, and I know she knows it, but I doubt I've ever said it. Words are so powerful. It's scary to say them. It emphasises things that are ordinary or even mundane. The way I love my family is nothing that requires fireworks, it just is. It is there everyday to the end of time.

If I say I love someone, I really mean it. Really, really, really mean it. And I expect the same from people saying it to me. Which is wrong because people don't experience love the same way. Who am I to say that you don't love me, when you just as well might. It's just not the same way that I love you.

I am capable of feeling love. I can feel love sparkling on my skin like I was part of #teamEdward. I feel it when I leave and a giant Hulk has grabbed me by my torso and squeezing all air out of me. We feel it when we look at each other for longer than a glimpse. It's not only in the silence, but it's in the everyday stuff too. It's how I feel when I cook for someone special, or try to sleep very still that I don't wake up the person next to me. It's in the present, not in the dreams about the future and definitely not in the scars of the past. I've always been capable of feeling love.

But I'm having hard times recognising it in the moment. I know what it is afterwards, but in that moment I'm not fast enough to name it. I think I've reached the point where I know what love is and being capable of feeling it. Now I just have to recognise when it happens. Because it's quite awkward to know you've fallen into a pit and you can't get out and you're stuck there forever and all eternity, only after you've landed, hit your head and smashed your skull. I think most people would know already when they have tripped. Quite awkward.

It's odd how one person can at the same time be spontaneous and extra careful. But I don't doubt. I ponder. I think what if's, I think is it better's, I wonder. I weigh. But the excessive thinking might look like doubting for the outside world. And doubt is contagious.

Today on this very moment there is a strange creature roaming around my life. I call him the boyfriend. Whether or not he is there roaming tomorrow, I can't foresee. Only time will tell.

Bonus track: I was googling for the song "does he love me, I wanna know" ect. because I couldn't remember the artist, and I came across with some golden stuff again. Though this time I felt that my blog is pretty much the same as these trashy magazine thingeys talking about love and signs and such. Maybe I should come up with quizzes too about knowing if your hamster loves you and what makes you look good for your shopping bag.

Here are few lines to remember from those sites:
"Sometimes, girls have a habit of getting annoyed for no apparent reason at all." (source)
"Men typically fall in love in a woman’s absence, not her presence." (source)
"If he’s hanging on to your every word about yourself, then he’s in love." (source)
And last but not least: A sign that he loves you is that "[h]e wears the sweater you gave him". (source)

💋

What was on the bread

Lately I've been thinking about my latest long relationship a lot. Probably because I had a little fight with him the other day and we haven't talked much lately. Probably because I met a guy who gives me the same kind of vibes as he did. Or maybe it's because I had a long talk on the phone with a friend who is having troubles in their relationship. Let's call my ex... umm... Stan. That'll make writing this easier. So my ex is Stan, and the new one is so new that I have not yet established a good nickname for him. If he sticks around, he'll get a name.

So anyways, about the vibes. I don't mean bad and definitely not anything bone chilling. More the opposite. I feel good and calm with the newbie like I did with Stan. Stan and I were together for years and in many ways it was a good relationship. Okay, a great relationship. Most people don't get to experience that even once in their lifetime and here I am at the threshold of another one. It wasn't perfect of course. Nothing in this life is perfect, and there's a reason we're ex's.

When I try to explain to people why Stan and I aren't together, it's always difficult. We broke up years ago and still I get asked that, especially if we're seen together. "Tell me again why aren't you guys together?" "Is there any chance you could get together again?" "You guys were so good together." Yes, we were. No, there isn't. And here's why were not together.

It sounds so vain when I say it, but it was the toasts in the mornings. But you have to see this as a metaphor for the entire relationship. We were together for years, Stan and I, and few years we lived together too. Stan was great. He wrapped me up in a towel after I took a shower. He made sure I was warm on a cold winter night. He was tentative in many ways. If I went out with my friends to a bar, he didn't join me because that was not his scene, but he usually came and picked me up. Even at four am. Even if I was sober as a crystal glass and didn't need anyone to walk me home. And he made me breakfast.

You don't know how many mornings I flipped because of that damned breakfast. I had it the same way every morning. I still do, if I'm having bread. When I wake up, I put the boiler thingie on and go take a shower so the tea is not too hot later. I have green tea in the mornings. With honey. (Granted, three years ago I didn't use honey.) And the teacup is always fully filled, because I would use a smaller cup if I wanted less. I have a glass of water on the side, and it has to be cold. The water, not the glass. I have two slices of bread. Toasted. Next part depends on what there is in the fridge, but the elements never really change. I put butter on the bread (or cream cheese) and I smear it equally on the bread. That means the sides too, not just put some on the middle. Then I put cheese, because I like how it slightly melts on the toasted bread. Then I put ham or something whatever kind of meat there is. And then bell pepper, cucumber or tomato or something, again what there is in the fridge.

A long explanation, right? And not too easy to remember. How long do you think it would take to remember it? A week? A month? More than six years? I'm super grumpy in the mornings, and I told Stan multiple times that I get cranky when I don't get the breakfast I like, so it's better if he just doesn't make it anymore at all. But because he wanted to make me breakfast, he did. And I was angry. Because it was never right. And I need it to be right in the mornings. It just has to be right. Otherwise I don't survive the day.

He never learnt, and I was the bad guy. In the relationship with Stan most of things were like a stage. I tried not to get mad and yell, because he got so clogged from that. There were not a single fart in the room we shared. But it wasn't fake either. It was just how we were together, and it probably explains why it didn't last. Next time you see us walking around in the town, you know why we're not together. It's because of the bread. Stan was wonderful, and he still is. He's just not the butter for my bread.

Now back to the newbie and the thoughts. He doesn't make me feel like breakfast in the mornings. Oh no. He makes me feel like wrapping a big towel around after a shower. And this feeling makes me grateful for what being with Stan taught me. It taught me not to be so angry, not to nag all the time. It taught me to talk about things, all kinds of things. It taught me that two different kinds of people can quite easily make it work if they want to. It taught me that not all past relationships are waste of time. It showed me what is an equal relationship, where both brings something in it. It taught me not to poison the other person and it taught me to hold my own. Being with Stan made me the person I am today. I might not have been all the things I am with him, but I sure as hell learnt about myself so much that a retreat to a mountain cave for soul searching would not have been better use of time.

It's so important to be with someone who makes it easy to be yourself around. And it's so easy to be in a relationship where you forget who you really are, where the poison runs in both of your veins and the small voice in your head telling you that you're better than this, has gone silent long time ago. It's hard to end a relationship that you thought would last forever. And it is really hard to be friends with your ex's. Even for me and Stan, who didn't have that toxic atmosphere.

We don't have time for shitty relationships. Most of all because it molds us to someone we're not. It makes us lose ourselves and regret the things we say and do. A bad relationship makes us afterwards ponder not who the person was who we were with, but the person who we became during the relationship. If you find yourself radically changing because of a relationship, think about it hard. Is it a good change? Do you want to change as that kind of a person? Are you doing it deliberately or are you changing because the relationship is forcing your soul to twist and turn? Do you like the person you've become? Is that person you?

Relationship in the modern era is not an altar you're supposed to sacrifice everything on. Of course you're supposed to work for it and not toss it away if the breads are not made to your liking on the first morning. But you're supposed to work for something you want to keep, something that gives you something too. If you keep giving but you get nothing back and you change for it, stop. Find another way. Maybe the relationship is not for you. And I can guarantee you'll do better on your own than in a toxic relationship. You'll survive the breakup and you'll learn to stand on your own two feet again. Don't let a relationship make you bitter and twisted. Fight for what is good, and if there's none left, know when to give up.

Relationships are never easy, but they can still be good.

There is no future in the past

This post combines many of the past issues I've wrote about so don't be alarmed if it sounds familiar. Before I start, this post needs few things pointed out. For those who have been with me longer already knows this stuff but here's a recap:
1. I started dating again.
2. It has brought all kinds of problems.
3. I've been awfully busy.
4. I have DADDY ISSUES written on my forehead.
5. I'm in the process of going through professional mental health evaluation to see if I'm crazy enough to need treatment. Because hey, let's face it. We're all mad here.

The more time passes, the less I believe. I don't necessarily lose hope, but I just don't believe. Not in fairy tales, not in toughing it through everyday life. I just don't believe I could find someone who is not too perfect but perfect enough. And I'm glad of that. Believing in a world that does not exist is exhausting and doing so one can lose contact to reality. So finally, after over thirty years, I have finally managed to bring my feet to the ground. There are still small clouds going by my head, but everything takes time.

I have an appointment with a psychiatrist in few days and I've been thinking about what to tell her. She's been asking what it is that in the relationship with my father affects negatively in my life and other relationships. I didn't have an answer for her earlier, but because it's been weeks since we last met, I've had plenty of time to think. Think, think, think - that is my curse.

This has to do with dating. Again.

So I met a man. Yes, yes, yes, I've said that before. No, he is not too good to be true. No, he is not the prince charming, he doesn't have a white horse, he is not mysterious and magical. He is pretty straightforward, honest it seems, and real. I wouldn't say this seems too good to be true, because there is a possibility he is going to murder his neighbours dog and feed it to me as a stew. Or worse, make stew out of me. It's too early to say if we're at all compatible.

Physically we're not an ideal match. It doesn't feel like we've been kissing each other our whole lives. He is so much taller than I am that my calves aches after we've met because I have to reach for him. We can't be with each other every bit effortlessly, no, we have to talk about things and practise how to be with each other. And that's a good thing, I think. Because if we can solve little problems from the beginning, we can tackle bigger issues later on.

If there is a "later on".

I'm trying to not get my hopes up. I've been down that road before too many times. In the end of that road is only shrugs, some "meh"s and shadows. All of those experiences I carry with me now and they make it harder and harder to believe. Though we all have baggage we bring in to new relationships. Whether it is a romantic relationship or any other kind. It is easier to notice them when it's a romantic one though. There are things we're just not able to let go. But they do say we're looking for someone whose demons plays well with ours. So maybe there's hope for the damaged good that we all become at some point in life.

I hate what the thinking does to me. With every man I meet, I wonder if he is like my father. Am I going to make the same mistakes as my mother did? Has their relationship thought me to stay clear from all that poison, or am I to become one of my parents? And when it comes to relationships, I don't know which is worse: being a dick like my father or being heartbroken and abandoned like my mother. How do I recognise those things about myself? How can I prevent myself making the same mistakes over and over again, generations after generations? How can I make sure I don't bring the poison with me and drink it myself? But most of all, how can I make sure it's not in my veins and spreading around me like venom with every kiss? How can I protect not only myself but the other one too?

In relationships I bring both the curses and the blessings. I have been mistreated and because of that - and basically my whole history - it is very hard to trust anyone is actually serious with me. I also have had a good, profound, long and meaningful relationship, which means I compare a lot the old and the new one. But our baggage can just as easily be that we don't have experience. Either way, what ever the past we bring with us is, it doesn't make things easier. But we should keep in mind that that is what makes us us, and we should be grateful nonetheless. Constantly looking back doesn't make the future any brighter - there is no future in the past.

But wut is luv? I still don't know what love is. Sometimes I wonder if the cage I keep my heart in is the reason I don't know what it is. And maybe it's not about the other person. Maybe no one is supposed to teach love. Maybe you are supposed to learn how to love on your own. Maybe you're supposed to figure out what love is by laying yourself open to loss. Is love something that burns you, high voltage through your veins, heart beating so hard that it breaks your ribs? Is love something sudden, like a walk on a field and falling in an underground cave? Is it something unexpected, like a lightning strike?

I've had that, all of that, all at once. And it didn't feel like love and the only marks it left on me were scars. I think the closest I've gotten to love was when I was with someone and by the long time spend together, we almost melt into one. But there's a danger of losing yourself in the process and in the end it was only temporary. I would like something like that but so that it would last "until death do us part".

I want someone I can be myself with, someone cozy but exciting at the same time. Someone similar, but different enough. Someone to build pillow fortresses with. Someone to introduce to my friends and family. Someone who I'm sure of and with whom I'm sure of myself too. I don't want that person to be the adventure, I want him to be the one I can go on adventures with. I want someone I can tackle problems with, not create them. I want someone who can stand on their own two feet, someone who doesn't need me but wants me because they think I'm just absolutely lovely. And I want to think the same of them.

I wish this time I've found it. But if the past has thought me anything, it's more likely that it isn't. Though the chances are 50-50. Either it is, or it isn't.

Okay world, I'm ready. Bring it on. Towards new disappointments!

(I think the source for the comic is cutestrip, but when I tried to google it, I only found porn - though I'm not complaining...)

Motivation

Lately in university related things, my ego has been so stroked that it will either burst or buff out. I'm so excited about school work, lectures and writing my thesis that it very hard to hold my horses.

When I was exchanging in England, I failed one course. Well, not failed, I just didn't pass the first time. I needed a retry. It was pretty embarrassing. But I think in the end it did me good because not everything was so easy. I came home, did one course, got the best grade without even trying and now I'm normal and balanced again.

Or I was until the field work started. Imagine you're a poor student, holding on to a bachelors degree like your dear life depended on it and then you get sent to the big league. You participate in a project where all the ships have PhD flags, and trying to explain to your friends who you've met takes years because of all the titles and departments. And imgine you shivering and shaking and trying to make a good impression while trying to be yourself and still do respectable work. You're ready to climb the academic mountain even though you know you probably won't survive past the first camp. With determination you go forward, but every once in a while you feel sorry for not being able to give your all. All your time and effort. You feel like you could do better. You feel like you don't know much. You feel more like a burden because you have to be taught and there are so many people in this world who would have done your work easier and faster. You have doubts, but you're excited.

And then imagine you get good feedback. Like massively good feedback. And it just keeps coming. This is not the pat-you-on-the-back-everyday-good-feedback. Oh no. This is good-feedback-in-Finland.

And after a while your ego is like an armor of a shining knight and there's really nothing else you can do but to ride that damned white horse and hope its legs don't break from your heavy, fat and greasy self-importance. I can't wait to get to the writing part! Too bad it's going to take me a while to study what kind of things I should write and about the form of the thesis and such. I hope I'm still even half this excited after New Years when I get to the actual writing part.

Unfortunately I can't say the same about my work. Like my actual job. Where I get paid to do stuff. Are you familiar with the concept?

I can be a lot of good things and a lot of bad things, but I don't think anyone can deny that a little workaholic lives very much in me. I've been feeling guilty for concentrating on work so much and less in school so I guess losing the motivation for work might help me to concentrate on other things. More important things. I will prioritise, as we do at work too.

I always do what I've been asked. I might not do it profoundly well or with pleasure but if I am assigned a work, I do it. I'm not very familiar with the word "no" and commonly mistake it to something edible that I'm not allowed to eat anyway. This time I tried proudly refuse to do one thing. You know the things that are pointless, a bit beneath you or you've already done the same thing a million times and now it's someone else's job? But then the job doesn't get done in time. Not because of the lack of your effort but just because everyone else thought it was pointless too or could be done better. But somehow it is still your fault it didn't get done. Because you declined to do it. Openly. The very first time you said you'll refuse.

What do we learn from this? It is okay for everyone else to say they won't do something but you better just do it. You better just do it so it gets done, much less annoyance.

What's the message this kind of situation sends? Don't tell your boss you dislike some job, just slack behind their back. Don't voice your opinion about the pointless job, nobody cares and it will only create awkward situations. Even though you don't waste your time at work and you would have actual jobs to do and anyone else could do this one thing, it is still important you get it done because we're all equal. At leats when it comes to you. And also, if the place you work tells you they want to offer you more meaningful tasks to keep you motivated, this is what you get.

Quite a rant that became. But I'm pissed. And there's no use telling this at work because it will only create issues that could blow off in time if I stay silent. So I rant here, knowing this will help me.

My self-esteem might be hiding under a rock in the Mount Doom under Saurons watchful eye in many aspects, but one thing I know for sure. When it comes to employees and doing the work, I'm pretty damn good. I work fast, I work hard, I like to learn new things and I always try to get along with everyone. I guess that shined in the field work too. I'm rarely late and I take pride on what I do. I like to explain how to do the job to others too and I won't sit on information. When I have motivation, I give 120% - sometimes to the detriment of everything outside work. And even when I don't have motivation I give 90%.

And it's the extra 20% that pisses me off the most. For a (I hate this word) "disabled" like me, how many times I've carried something even when I shouldn't. Used a machine I shouldn't. Done things I shouldn't for the price of my health. And that's the thing that makes me feel like an idiot. Like a sucker who will do just anything because it's easier and because creating a scene about that is pointless, because being a good employee is making things work smoothly without anyone even noticing who made it happen. Just few weeks ago I came home bruised as a peach. But a fool doesn't get appreciation.

The worst part of me as an employee is that sometimes I get entitled. Entitled to my opinion and I know that when I know I'm right, I know I'm right and there's no other rights and everyone else should know that too. This is me doing just that.

I don't know what to do. I like the flexibility my current work gives me and I don't think I have the time and energy to learn a new job even if I could get one. But I don't want to go to work just because I have to. And I don't want to barely do the necessary, I'm just not that kind of person. But still, stick a fork in me, I'm done.

I wonder if motivation is constant. Maybe it's liquid and you have different kinds of glasses you can pour it in. And when one is full, the others don't have enough to even be noticed.

Forget you are suffering

Stomach cramping. Palms sweating. Maybe even some mom's spaghetti. Nervous. Sitting restlessly trying to peak behind the curtain. Wondering what kind of audience there is. This is the premier and there's no guarantees of another show. It's time. Stand up, walk tall. What ever you do, don't cry. Don't be so nervous. Walk out there. The curtains open, it's time for your monologue.

40 minutes in, the critic stops you. That's not good. Why? What? Heart pounds. It's because you cried. You should not have cried. But the critic almost cried too! Twice you saw tears in their eyes. Well, it's done now. The moment of truth. Did you pass on to the next level? Is there going to be a sequel or will the buzzer mark for all the X's?

You passed with flying colours. Why you didn't have to finish the whole hour monologue was because 40 minutes was enough. You will definitely continue with this path. They'll see you again next month. You leave the stage with a smile and a bow. First breath of fresh air makes you want to call all your loved ones...

...and tell them that you had your first ever mental health consultation.

But who would want to hear about that?

The point going to see a professional is to pour it on someone who is trained to handle someone else's pain and not to bother my friends who has their own problems. I always knew I was crazy but I wanted to know how crazy. It's a mystery because I've always been a high-functioning lunatic. My sense of duty has always exceeded my need to sleep the whole year, close the drapes and sit in darkness with songs about never loving again playing on the background. One of my friends once quoted Hemingway to me: "You are so brave and quiet I forget you are suffering." I've never thought myself brave.

Quite the opposite. Walking home alone at night is scary and I'm practising that. Getting yelled at in a public place is very scary. Either I don't have the guts to answer or maybe it's best not to answer so I don't get all worked up and hurt someone. Falling in love is scary. Trusting anyone is a nightmare. Trusting myself is even scarier. "I wonder how much of what weighs me down is not mine to carry."

The nurse I had an appointment with asked me three times if I've ever talked with a professional before. If anyone at school ever asked me if I needed to vent. If the place I worked when I had the long sick leave ever offered me to cope with such things. Nope, never had the pleasure. What would it help anyway? Talking won't make it go away. My life's been what it was and there's nothing that can change that. There's no band aid for scars.

There are three reasons I went this time. First because my friends have been telling me I should for a long time and because one of them said that my childhood experiences are not normal and basically grounds to be taken in custody. Secondly because as a student I get help for a very low price and because it's for once easy to ask for help. Thirdly because I still dream of having kids one day and I don't want to have them deal with my problems. Hopefully generations of pain will stop in me. And let the kids get their own traumas.

It was quite weird to go talk about the darkness when it's so bright right now. For a long time I haven't felt this optimistic about the future. I have as we Finns say "the buns well in the oven" (golden buns, not offspring). Gorgeous, huge, sweet buns that I made myself by just being myself. I love and feel loved. But maybe this is the best time to tackle the problems. The ego boost I've gotten at work and the field work and with the short summer love and everything, gets nicely balanced with talking about the most horrendous things ever happened to me.

There's not going to be applause, but there's a chance for peace, which is so much better.

I'm a bit scared of the process and I have a lot of school and work lined up for the autumn. Maybe it's a good thing to not have as much time for my friends than I would hope because once your brains have been set to one track, it might be hard to briefly visit other tracks.

And now my friend, while you're reading this and thinking "what the hell am I supposed to say to that?" or "can I like this or is that weird?", the answer is that you don't have to say anything. You can pretend you didn't read this. But I wanted to tell you. I needed to tell you, as I always need to. I want telling about mental health issues be the same as telling about carpal tunnels or rash in weird places. There's a time and place for all of those and no one wants to hear about them endlessly, but that shouldn't mean they're not normal things. Because that's what we all are. Normal. Even if we wanted or not.

The song of the day would have been Pain of Salvation's Ashes, but I think Blogger has make the rules what you can show from YouTube stricter again. Pffft.

"Good night and good mental health." -Frasier

Following your heart means losing your mind

Song of the day first this time. It's Ratatat's Wildcat. 

Do you know when you get the "I should do this, I should do that, why haven't I done that already, I really have to think about that" mood? And then you run out of money. And then something emotional happens. Suddenly you're so deep in your thoughts again that you don't know which way is up and which down. Deadline for an essay is lurking in the corner, the vacation is almost over and back to work soon and school starts in few weeks and I haven't picked the courses and and and...

"Do you believe in Fate? Are we but trains, traversing on rails laid before us, given only an illusion of freedom?

If our lives are predetermined, shouldn't it be simple to peer into the future and see the end of the rails? If choice is but an illusion, why do you spend so much time worrying about whether yours was right? If there are no options, why do you ponder at what-ifs?"

This is a piece a friend of mine wrote for a photography portfolio. I find myself pondering about it often. I've been playing the "is it better" game in my head again. And of course it has something to do with men. I've met a man.

So confusing, so assertive and same time shy, insecure and cocky, funny but so serious man. So confusing that I have no idea what it is about him. Why I blush when he looks deep into my eyes, why do my knees go weak when he kisses me. And mostly why do I want to tear off his clothes and then mine and lay in bed until someone forces us out of it.

He makes me confused, but mostly in a good way. Though I found out something about myself that I hoped didn't exist. Long story short.

 We met in the internet. Of course. Where else people meet other people anymore? He is from another country. Of course since apparently there's something wrong with Finnish men. I was in the forest for a week doing field work for my masters thesis and the next day I left, he came here. But our paths crossed. I knew I had about 24h time to meet him when I got home. So after being a wildling with nature growing in my eyes and the wind and the rain in my hair, I came home, threw my stuff on the floor and left to meet him.

It wasn't a date. We both knew it wasn't. It wasn't romantic, it was fun. It was casual. It was natural. Natural was to talk with him, joke with him, dance with him, hang out with him. And because of that it was natural to kiss him. It was natural to get weak knees. We spent the night talking and making out like teenagers.

He left the next day. 

He also stayed the next day. He postponed his leave for a week. So we met again. It was natural again, and again the time just flew by. We spent the night kissing, spooning and what else innocent you can do with your clothes on. 

He wants to take it slow.

And here's the thing. It drives me crazy. I've never had the "problem" that the person I like doesn't want to sleep with me. Quite the opposite. If someone is willing to kiss me, they're usually more than happy to make me forget the world entirely.

And he's so fucking sexy. The way he kisses, the way he touches... It's hot. I want to pounce him, scratch him, rip off my clothes in front of him. I want to make him see that it would be a good idea to get oh so very naked.

But he doesn't want me. Maybe he doesn't find me attractive after all. He says he does. He says he doesn't want to fuck it up. I look at him my head tilted. Is he serious? Does he mean it? Is he serious with me? Is this getting too serious? But if it is going to be serious, what does it matter how soon we do it. He is leaving the country in few days anyway!

Hold on. Am I trying to pressure someone to have sex with me? What the hell? What have I become?

This is the point I threw him out. Or I will do something I'll regret. Either torture myself around him so much that I will feel like shit and cry, or turn into somekind of monster who pressures someone to have sex with them. Distance is a good idea.

But I like him. No idea why, but I do. 

And now he doesn't answer my message.

I guess it was me who fucked it up. In relationships, either way, we are screwed. And not in a good way.

Kick the chair under me

Lately I've been having a bit of problems keeping mental things not to become physical things. It all started couple of weeks ago when I met with my ex. We broke up three years ago but we've been keeping in touch and the friendship thing has been working well so far. Until now, of course.

You know how much I like museums, right? I work in one, I study museums, I go to museums in my free time and this spring I decided that a piece of me should stay in a museum. There's a Croatian museum called the Museum of Broken Relationships that has temporary exhibitions in different countries. In every country they collect broken relationship related objects that they display in that country, and later perhaps in other countries, and all the items finally goes to the museum collections in Zagreb in the end.

So I thought what better way to get rid of some sentimental crap that I can't throw out but I don't want to keep either, than to donate them to a museum. I filled out a form, sent the object, got a letter back that it has been accepted as one of the items on display here. I thought that was pretty cool. I had asked my ex if I could donate the item because you can easily recognise whose it used to be. He agreed and then we agreed to go see it on display together.

So the day came when we went there. I already knew it's going to be emotional because when I first saw the object in the museum, I got tears in my eyes. He hadn't yet seen the exhibition. This time it was him who got all teary. And to see that, was pretty rough.

After the visit to the exhibition he asked if I wanted to go watch movies at his friends place like we used to do many times when we were together. It would have been fine, but there was a minor little problem. The couple whose place we were at had had a kid in the meanwhile. So my ex and the kid sits on the floor and they build a little railway together. Oh, did I already meantion the main reason we broke up was because I wanted kids and he didn't?

Yeah.

I went home and cried a little. The day had just been too much.

Couple days later he asks me if I could play a video game with him over the internet. Of course I agree and we play for a while. I get this weird feeling. I get a bit dizzy and after an hour of playing I have to stop. I laid on the floor for a while and hoped it wasn't the stomach flu that had been raging around the town. Felt a bit better, got up and nope, not better at all, nope nope. Spend the rest of the day in a horizontal position in the bathroom floor because that was the only way it didn't feel terrible.

Next day: nothing. It couldn't have been anything I ate because I ate only things from my own fridge and I knew what's up with them. It wasn't the flu because I didn't get a fever and I was alright so soon. I came to the conclusion that it had to be the game. Some kind of head bobbing effect or something had triggered it. So I put it behind me and lived on. Week later my ex asks if I want to play again. I agree and after half an hour I'm convinced it's the game that makes me sick. I stop playing.

Everytime I think about my ex and kids and such, I get a lump in my throat. It wasn't the game. After the dating site thing when ever I get anxious about talking to too many people at the same time or having troubles of saying no to a nice guy that I'm just not interested, I get the same lump there. Maybe I wasn't ready for this whole dating ordeal.

Apparently it's because I overthink things. Yes, again someone told me that. But they never tell me how to stop thinking. Is there a switch somewhere that will make it stop? Or should I just get a lobotomy and be done with it. From a young age we've been thought about causality and consequences. Of course I think what would happen if I say yes to this. If I agree to go on a date, what would happen. Is there any point, do we have enough in common, do we live travellable distance apart... there are thousands of questions in my head when I have to make any decision. You really should see me trying to choose an ice cream, let a lone a man!

If you read my previous post, you know I had some troubles with crossing the line with one guy. I built up the courage to tell him that even though he is thinking about me, I'm not looking for to date him. Guess what he said? It's because I misunderstood. That it's all in my head. That he never said anything like that. That he was only thinking about me as a friend. Sorry friends, I didn't know I'm supposed to tell you I think about you, miss you and that we should stop the pretence and open our hearts to each other. But I couldn't tell about my feelings even to a friend because I'm a Finn. We're not capable of telling about our emotions, have you heard that?

Sometimes I just hate people so much.

I need a vacation. I need to crawl under the bed with a blanket and stay in the dark for a few days without people, without internet, without the stupidity of mankind. I need myself more than I have ever needed anyone.

And the song of the day is from 69eyes, an oldie, but goldie, The Chair.

Witchdoctor

Oh boy. I got two juicy stories for you, but I don't know which one to tell! So I guess I'll ramble on and just tell both mixing them together. The other one is somewhat educational and chapter 2 for the vagina monologue. The second one is the usual social porn and what's up in my dating life. Where to start, where to start...

Few weeks ago I had a doctors appointment. When I called in they said I should ask the doc about everything that's been bothering me. But it was a gynocologist and a weird one, so I couldn't really talk to her. Other than that it was a pretty standard visit to the gyno. She checked me for breast lumps and while doing so, she commented that I had very dry skin. When she got between my legs, she said the same thing. She told me to go buy lotion from the pharmacy and put it everywhere. And she meant EVERYWHERE.

Well, not IN anything, but... you know. I didn't know that was a thing. But I guess it's similar to dry lips and the need of lip balm. I've known I had dry skin for a long time and I think I have been writing here about the need to hire a professional lotioner and I think it just got a tad bit easier. A new pickup line for sure! "Hey baby, wanna come over and put lotion on my vulva?" Should work. Though it might not make a very profound relationship.

I've been thinking about the whole dating ordeal a lot more lately and then a friend of mine said that maybe I'm not that kind of a person who can settle down with one person for a long period of time. I've been thinking about it ever since and maybe she's right. Or maybe I have problems. I have a huge label of Daddy Issues on my forehead at least if nothing else. That's why I thought about asking the good doc how could I get to a mental health consultation. But since I couldn't ask her... Seriously, when I was leaving I said thank you and she responded with a "fine." and neither one of us said goodbye. It's safe to say we didn't exactly meet on a personal level. I don't know if it's a good thing or a bad thing when it's a gynocologist.

I had to get some shots so I went to see the nurse and since she was so nice, I asked her about this mental health stuff. She booked me for consultation and now I'm officially knocking on the doors of "the system". Maybe I'm not crazy, maybe I'm just a personality. We shall see. But I thought I had to take my own advice, can't be telling others maybe they should go talk to a professional if I won't do it myself. So next month I got an hour booked for bawling. Should be fun. Or something.

When I started to use an online dating site again, it was because I wanted some action. A little action. Not much action. Guess what I got? A buttload of action! Hell, I've been chatting my fingers sore. I've even met with one guy who was okay. Can you hear my enthusiasm? But okay is a good start, maybe I'll meet him again and see if okay turns to something more exciting.

There are few other guys eager to meet me too. But some of them are out of towners so I don't know how it would work. I've already tried the other country thing. I've also tried the half way across the same country thing. Neither one left good memories. But it's like judging a whole nation for one idiot. Though I must admit I have my guards up when it comes to middle eastern or indian guys. They seem to be full of "romance" but not much substance. Then again the world is full of guys who are clingy and full of guys who say anything to get in your pants. I don't care for either ones.

But to the main story. I was at work one day. Minding my own business as usual, when a group came in and one of them wanted to have a chat with me while the others wandered around. He went out few times and came back in to talk some more. He said it's very hard to talk with natives (it was Finnish for beginners group) and that if he proposes cup of coffee to someone they are hesitant to go. I told him that it's because in Finland you have to ask the other person for a pint and then it's casual. If you ask them for coffee, they think it's a date.

He said it's nice to be able to talk to someone and asked if I wanted to go for a coffee or a drink or whatever. I told him he can't hit on me while I'm working, it's just not cool. He assured me he just needs friends because he doesn't know that many people here and he also would like help with his language skills. I know what you're thinking, this sounds like a line but he seemed sincere to me. I ended up giving him my number and we agreed to go for a drink one day. And then the day came and I thought, what have I gotten myself into again. Some stranger I met briefly, this is gonna be aaaawkward. But it ended up being nice. We chatted about many things and I thought great, I got a new friend. Though I don't have time for my friends as it is so new friends are always a bit of a hassle.

We agreed to meet some other time and we hugged and went our merry way. Today he sent me a message, and few messages later he said he has been thinking about me. Initial thought was something along the lines: FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK! He promised not to hit on me! I wasn't even charming, because it wasn't a date I was my horrible self. He's the second guy in a week to tell me that he can't stop thinking about me. And as lovely as that is, I met this guy twice! Twice!! Then I thought maybe it's a language barrier thing and I asked if I said or did something funny that he has been thinking about. There was no doubt about what he meant when he answered that he wants me in my life.

*insert here murloc sounds*

Okay, I must admit I did think that he smelled good. And you don't think that kind of things about your friends, not in that way. But that's as far as I got with that. I didn't get to the "I miss you so much" part. No sirree. What the hell am I supposed to do now? Do I meet him again and see where it goes? Do I tell him to hold his horses? Do I tell him that I don't want to see him again? And the deep rooted Issues are saying "What if it's just lines?". The last guy I was cool to kiss with ended up being a total asswipe who just wanted to bed me and I never heard from him ever since. It makes a person feel like a damn fool. I never wanna feel like that again. I'm too old for that shit.

So I'll be here. Panicing.

The song of the day is Witchdoctor by Cartoons. With this song I wish happy birthday to the guy I lost my viginity to and to the rest a happy fourth of July!

"Who knows? Perhaps your love will make me forget all I wish not to remember.",

wrote Alexander Dumas in The Count of Monte Cristo.

Warning signs

If you were forced to wear a warning label, what would yours say?

Mine would probably be a long list of all kinds of things from weak self-esteem when face-to-face with someone to judging others too hard to being gullible to having too much patience with messed up people. We all got our stuff. And many times they contradict each others.

I finally got bored growing my armpit hair and decided that I need something, even a little action in my life. I thought Tinder is not for me right now, I want to be able to know a bit more about the other person. I remember OkCupid to be fun so I thought I'd give it another go. Oh boy... I had forgotten some realities of internet dating while taking a break.

Tinder makes it available to send messages only to those who likes you back. OkCupid has no such filter. I made my profile on Saturday and it's now Tuesday morning and almost thirty people has sent me something. Mostly just "hi". I'm not gonna answer to hi unless you're the freaking pope. Or Johnny Depp. And not just a lookalike, it should be the real deal.

One day I was browsing through apps and I saw an app for online dating guide. And specifically for OkCupid. I didn't know I need an app for it. Guide maybe yeah, but an app? What would the app do? I haven't yet tried it, but I think I must just in the name of science.

I think I've probably written about this topic before, but the online world changes so quickly that it's better update the idea. I've changed also, I'm even more bitter and sarcastic towards online dating so let's see where this combination takes us. When I googled the guide app to find more information, I found this site and thought it's pretty interesting. It's an analysis OkCupid has done about what messages gets most responds. So apparently people answer around 36% of the messages they get. I have now answered around 10% which is four answers in total. One guy just linked me some political stuff so I had to answer him that this is definitely not the best way to advance your agenda. One guy sent such a freaky message that I couldn't help but answer something sarcastic back. At least he had written a lot, though I think it was a copy-paste he sends to a lot of people. But it did not include anything sexual, nothing about my looks and it had more than one line of text so it deserved an answer. I like to encourage such behaviour even though the message and probably the person is just a huge joke.

I took a few screenshots of my inbox, but I must warn you: it's not a pretty sight. The lack of imagination and personality (both being personal and showing personality) is worth of headache. And I know this is not even that bad! Facebook had automatically given my profile pic to OkCupid and it took me few days to realise it. Guess what my profile pic looks like in FB? Like I'm the michelin man! On purpose of course, but maybe not the most enticing picture for a dating site. Though that proves even more that most of these guys haven't read my profile at all. (If you don't know what a michelin man is, google is your friend)

Okay, it might not have been easy to see what's said in the screenies but the point is most of them are just helloes and not much else. Most of these messages are from foreigners living in Finland. I keep meeting people like this, probably because I don't care where people are originally from and I think OkCupid is more used by non-Finnish speakers. But there's a clear difference (this is a generalisation) how Finnish guys and how foreign guys tries to hit on chicks. The problem is that both of these groups are trying to hit Finnish women (mostly). Finnish guys don't flatter enough or it's so cheesy it sounds like a lie. Foreign guys flatter too much that it starts to sound like empty words very soon.

For some reason many foreign guys think they have to lie about what they want to women to get what they really want. They want to have sex.

D'oh.

I mean, who doesn't?

Not always and not all, of course. But mostly it's on the agenda and really high up on the list. But why make all those speeches of "I'm so romantic, I'm the most romantic guy in the world, I like to cuddle, I like romantic comedies, I just want to get to know you"? It's crap, and unnecessary. We're in Finland. We don't have a problem with sex. Well okay okay, it's not as big of a problem here. We are somewhat equal which means women can make same decisions as men. I choose who I want to sleep with. I choose when I want to sleep with someone. I choose if I want to see that person ever again after that. Both genders can have casual sex.

So why lie about wanting love when you really want sex? It's unnecessary because there are plenty of women who wants the same thing. But what they want more is honesty. Here's an example that I think shows what the problem is. You can clearly tell where my interest stops like it hit a wall. Though credit to this guy, he was somewhat honest what he was looking for. I just think there should be something else in their heads too. (I have chopped some parts out because they reveal personal things, but this conversation was had within the same hour.)

Don't you just love the question if I was scared? It tickled my old bones in a way that I can't even describe! Because of course being scared is the first reason not to go on a date with someone. Also he didn't tell much about himself but wanted to know personal details about me. If that's not a clear warning sign, I don't know what is.

I think it's important to tell about yourself more than just vague stuff. Like I tell that I work in a museum because I think it tells something about me. But no way am I going to tell first up in what museum I work in. I don't like stalkers and I definitely don't collect them. Though I did just get a closet enough for few skeletons so maybe I should consider it.

The rules listed in the guide are: 1. Be literate. 2. Avoid physical compliments. 3. Use an unusual greeting. 4. Bring up specific interests. And so on. These are tips for how to better get a respond from a potential chatting partner. I don't know about others but I myself am quite bored of having the same conversation of hi's, whats up's and cool story bro's. When I was in England so many people asked me why I was there that I got a bit fed up with it and now I try not to ask it from foreign people. I bet they've already been asked that before.

I don't mind if people are not super literate in their messages but if they have buttloads of spelling mistakes in their profile tells me that they just don't care. My profile picture is showing pretty much half of my face or something along those lines, which is why I hate the physical compliments even more. You haven't seen me, you haven't met me, how on earth would you know if I'm pretty or beautiful or face full of tenderness (wtf is that even?). I probably just have a good picture. Like most women do. We tend to care what we look like on a dating site. Because we want to get dates. So we pick the best pic. Not everyone is so careful though and here's an example of one guy. This is partly because of the language barrier but it's also a lazy profile. Hilarious in its lazyness though.

He's so romantic that one thing he couldn't do without is his mother. Sometimes I wonder if it's (again) a cultural thing, maybe we understand the word romantic differently. Maybe to some people being romantic is being sexual or sexy. Maybe the fairytales about knights and princesses and castles haven't reached all places, maybe the western rom-com idealism hasn't poisoned everyones mind just yet. Or maybe some people just don't know how to use a dictionary.

Anyways, maybe this was enough bashing of those poor blokes who are out there just trying to find love, even for a one brief moment. They will not stop until they have gotten that brief moment, and then you'll never hear from them again. Seriously, don't insult my intelligence by telling me things that are clearly not true. Nor fool me to believe something that is a lie and hurt my pride with it, because it's not necessary. This is Finland, land of loose and intelligent  women.

Damn, it happened again. I was supposed to write about something totally different but I guess this is what came out. Let's have a song of the day while we wait for another time when I write about what I was gonna originally. Better make it a long song...

I wanted the song to be Indiscriminate murder is counter productive by Machinae Supremacy but unfortunately blogger doesn't want to link it here, so let's keep it casual instead and link something funny like She said OK by Big Boi and friends. Nope, that doesn't work either so how about an old fashioned link to both of them. Be a Finnish woman and choose for yourself!

Indiscriminate murder is counter productive: https://youtu.be/QeXpYee5UhM
She said OK: https://youtu.be/us0OtBFyY_M

I think Blogger is slowly telling me that it's not interested and that I should move on to the modern world of vlogs. Anyone have a good video editing program in mind? Or where to stream, does it cost? Is there a difference between podcasts and vlogs? I'm so out of date with this stuff. I guess that's what I get from being old with a young mind :)

Btw. while writing this blog I got a message saying "You are so stunningly beautiful.". I shrugged and kept writing. Because what the hell should I answer to that?

Thanks? Good to see you had a period in the end of that sentence?

Compliments on physical beauty just don't work. And my personal pet peeve is a question without a question mark.

How are you. What's up. How're you doing. How's your day. Wanna meet up. You think I should cut off my fingers for sending this kind of rubbish to people. Question mark.

Cripples, pt. III

I just had a conversation with a friend about stream of consciousness. If you write it down without editing, could it be a peek into your mind and train of thoughts? He sent me some memories of his travels that were basically just things after things without much description. And I could see them before my eyes. Sometimes we don't need the whole picture, we just need an imagination. And the ability to see with our inner eyes.

I felt bad being so lazy that one time when I posted just my notes. But now I think it might be better to not always explain everything and just let you think what you want out of things. Just now I saw a gif where supposedly a man with down syndrome kicked a little boy and the father of the child who had been further away, knocked the kicker down with a single punch. There's no right answers to that situation. Nothing rarely is black and white. My notes are usually about those things, I guess that's what makes the thoughts so interesting. Some of these I wrote down while I was blabbering for hours on the phone with a friend a while back, so I can't take full credit for all of them.

Responsibility is on the individual.

An intelligent person is not (automatically) a good person.

One can be shy towards other things than just people.

"I knew from the start that you'll break my heart."

Where is the line between feelings and sexual tension? What are the signs?

"You got wisdom to give but you trade it for youth."

He is so smart, it's sexy.

Not to be loved like in the songs, but to love someone so much that you want to sing about it.

"It's a sin. Everything I've ever done, everything I'll ever do, everywhere I'll ever be."

Haste is the enemy of love.

There is no future in the past.

You need someone that doesn't need you to fix them, but someone who needs you nonetheless.

Being happy or being content as a goal of life?

If there really is a hell, I'll be going there.

No judge, no jury, just an execution.

Why do geek guys like older girls? Is it because they think younger chicks only likes makeup and fashion and nothing "smart"?

Save the world by flashing.

There was one more, but that doesn't say much to anyone because it's just "flirting: give/take". Okay, I might have to explain at least the last one. The flashing thing I saw in a documentary about vulva (I watched a penis documentary too and I was happy to see that cosmetic surgery has taken steps forward since the last documentary I saw. It's still crazy as hell, but I can still appreciate innovations).

In the documentary there was a journalist who had dove in deep to the world and history of female body parts. She had come across an ancient story of a Greek goddess Demeter who was sad because her daughter was kidnapped. A woman named Baubo then told her some lewd jokes and finally flashed her. That made the goddess laugh which was a good thing because her being sad made the world stay in a state of winter and all that. Apparently the goddess was raped trying to find her daughter who was imprisoned by Hades and probably raped as well. Greek mythology, always so cheerful.

Anyway, the world would be a better place if people laughed more. I'm pretty sure if us girls started to flash to people, it would be hilarious. So inappropriate as well, but nevertheless hilarious. Save the world by mooning your front side will become one of my mottos. Also I think if we saw genitalia in non-sexual situations more often, a world would be a better place. You can read more about goddess Demeter for example here.

The song of the day is Ramalama (bang bang) by Róisín Murphy. This time on Vimeo because someone had made an amazingly crazy video for it. Link here: https://vimeo.com/59360041

Another brick on the wall

Yesterday at work we talked about how us Finns are so neurotic for being right. If we can't do a good job, we don't do it at all. That's why we shy from talking other languages. Almost everyone in Finland knows some other language enough to at least survive with it. If a group of random Finns were thrown to a place and country unknown to them, they could be home in no time, because one of them can communicate in French, one in German, one in Russian, one can read Greek alphabet and one has roots in Middle-East and remembers some Arabic. And of course they all speak both Swedish and English. But they won't, since they can't use the language because they don't do it perfectly. We do nothing half-assed, we won't even live the life we're handed because we might mess it up. So better keep the expectations low.

I've been thinking about expectations a lot lately. I think in some way the time in England freed me. For the past few years I've battled more and more between who I am and who I should be in the sight of my friends, society, destiny... I've been in a glass cage of knowing people want something of me. They want me to be something. And I've found out that is a lie. Or if they do want me to be something, it's something totally different than I thought. My teenage years have screwed me over big time and I've been trying to fix it ever since. Being in a foreign country with people who don't know me was a huge step closer in accepting that people likes me for who I am. And they actually likes the real me a lot more than the fake me. I don't know why it is so hard to accept that I'm not perfect as a person, but I can still be a pretty cool gal.

I have fought against the artist in me. In a way I've thought the time has passed and I'm too late. I will never become anything. But I never wanted to be a Hollywood star. And time is a bonus for a thinker. The older you are, the more you've had time to think. And maybe in the end you can make something sensible out from all of it. I've tried to look like everyone else so I won't be recognised as "one of those people". You know, those people who lives inside their heads. Those people that are not really here. Those people who have lots of colors and flowers and pictures of kittens in their clothes. And hats. Preferably huge hats. I've been so afraid of getting that stamp on my forehead that I have chained myself to the ground thinking that flying is forbidden. That people will judge me and shun me from their society if I dare to be what I am. And all this time I could have been reaching for the stars. For example if I had committed to painting or writing, I wouldn't be Picasso or Shakespeare, but I could be pretty good because of all the practicing. Maybe I had published a book. Or held a little show in an art gallery. No more excuses, it's time to start flying.

I don't know why we think we know what other people think. Especially what they think about us. Why do we assume so many things without asking, without hearing the answer. Just believing something is not worth as much as the truth, as we Finns would say. When I was a teenager they said not to believe everything you hear, or not to believe everything they say, but why didn't anyone say don't believe what they think either.

I'm not saying I would be a famous artist if I hadn't wasted time with not being myself, but I might be happy now. I fought the wrong battles and thinking they would improve me, they made me more miserable. I'm that kind of a person who will never find peace, the inner struggle is too strong. But maybe I can find passing moments of serenity and over-all happiness. Especially if I don't waste time looking back how much time I've wasted. Maybe in a couple of decades when my friends are getting old and worried, I'll be drinking from the fountain of youth, thinking I've "found the truth inside after all the tears I've cried". In an old poem I wrote "I didn't know, by selling my soul, I couldn't grow old, nobody told" but I got that wrong. Selling my soul made me ancient, and when I got released from my contract I got young again.

Did that make any sense or was I unsuccesful bringing my thoughts from the clouds to the general area? I'll try to make more sense from now on: The other day my friend asked if I was interested to go on a boat trip to Croatia this summer. Hell yeah I'm interested! What could be more fun than laying in the sun for a week and swim in the crystal clear ocean? And then I heard who else is going and suddenly I came up with dozen of other things I could do with the money. Here's the list:

I could go fix my teeth so they would be straight. I don't know why they didn't fix them at the dentist when I was young. Maybe they weren't crooked enough. It's an expensive and long process, but one trip could cover the costs. And then I could actually have my teeth "lined up like a pearl necklace" as my last dentist lied to me.

I could finally get a hair extention. For long I've been dreaming of long, long, looooong hair. I like my short hair and sometimes I wonder if I should keep shaving it off because it's so much easier to upkeep that way, but a long beautiful hair would be a whole different story.

I could almost get a driver's license with that money. Not entirely but a lot of it anyway. I don't have a car and I don't know why would I need a license, but that's still something I could do. Or I could learn how to ride a motorcycle. I could buy a scooter and wroom wroom around the town. Okay, a used scooter, but a scooter nontheless. Though the public transportation is so good here that I wouldn't really need it. So maybe not useful but it could still be fun.

I could go to a spa and have all kinds of treatments. I could travel to England and Denmark to meet all of my friends. I could travel somewhere else. I was just last summer in Croatia and I want to see as many countries I can while on this earth.

I could furnish my apartment as I wish. I could buy painting equipment and turn my studio into a studio. I could get a canvas covering a whole wall and just paint all my troubles away.

I could pimp my computer. Buy gadgets. I could buy 20 pairs of quality leggings with that money. I could buy, buy, buy, but I already have so much stu... crap. I would rather get rid of it than get more. And experiences are worth more than any amount of money.

I could go to a concert or two, go on a party cruise here, travel in Finland meeting friends and relatives. I could have a proper vacation for a change and do absolutely nothing.

I could save up for a rainy day.

I could donate the money to a charity and solve all world's problems with it. Or I could go do volunteer work abroad and buy the plane tickets with that money.

I could hire a personal trainer and get fit. Or I could take dance classes. Or take singing lessons.

I could get a tattoo. I've been dreaming of a big and painful one

But the one thing I want the most is not something I can buy. One thing I want more than travel is to find love. We speak about finding love, but is love really hiding somewhere? Or is it all around us but we just don't see it. Love is blind, they say, but I think we as people are more blind...

---

...and that's where I stopped writing a month ago. I was supposed write it later but then I got new ideas and I couldn't write more posts until this one was finished and I didn't have the inspiration for this one anymore. So I never finished this and never will. I will probably one day post something about the thing I was gonna write but now I have to post this before the blog gets so cold it can freeze hell.

Here's the song of the day. I heard it in Elementary and liked it. It's not connected to anything, but it's a good song and I want you to like it too. And how can you like a song, if you've never heard it?

Baking extravaganza: Fluffy Pancakes

In my family pancakes used to always be the treat when the milk was going bad. Eating pancakes or well, more like crepes are specially good memories from childhood. And nothing beats a good pancake with some whipped cream and jam, nom! But I have modified pancakes so much that I don't think my mom would recognise them anymore. The oven made pancake that is on the list of recipes is a more traditional food. Very Finnish also. But my fluffy pancakes looks more like Hollywood versions, they're so big and fluffy.

I love traditional flavours. Something easy and simple is usually the yummiest. I think sushi is a good example of that. They can be easy and simple, but they can also be considered gourmet. But with my weird diet, it's sometimes hard to get the food to taste like it should. With these pancakes I kind of gave up. They don't taste like mom used to make them, but they taste wonderful. They don't need much sugar and I don't eat them with whipped cream and jam. The best part of them is that because the main ingredient is banana, they taste marvellous the next day and refrigerator cold.

Ingredients:
3 bananas
1 cup of flour
1 teaspoon of vanilla sugar
1 teaspoon of baking powder
1 teaspoon of psyllium
sugar
3 eggs
almond milk until the dough is runny
oil for frying

Mash bananas. Many recipes suggest to do this with a fork, but I've found the best, fastest and most efficient way to do this is by hands. And it's fun also! So banana mush, mix with flour and everything dry, then add eggs. Last put something liquid enough to make the dough runny. Then fry on a pan with lots of grease until lovely brown.

Tips: The browner the bananas are, the sweeter the pancakes will be. If you have good, old and wrinkly bananas, you probably don't need sugar at all. Psyllium should be in the liquid five minutes before adding to the rest. If you use normal flour, skip the psyllium, but give the flour time to absorb the moisture. With gluten free flour the dough is ready right when you've put everything together. Almond milk gives the pancakes sweetness but you can use milk or cream or just water. If you want to add flavour to the pancakes, fry them in coconut oil.

You can actually make pancakes out of just bananas and eggs, maybe add some milk too if you have any. I think those are more banana omelettes and not so yummy, but if you wake up hungry one morning and bananas and eggs are the only thing you have, then go for it.

And chocolate makes everything better. Put lots of it! In the dough, chocolate chips, chocolate sauce, just put everything in it. Chocolaaaaaate!