excerpt from my diary

"What I like about weddings is that nobody is in a hurry; you eat & laugh & applaud each other & sometimes ignore the program in order to chat to someone & eat some more & send an sms to somebody you wish were there & take pictures of people & sit all by yourself and ponder life for a while & drink some coffee & all of a sudden 8 hours have passed... and then it's time to dance!"

Said by someone who doesn't hate weddings as much as she claims to.

in need of tuning

dissonance screeches through my life as notes of evil
I shake my head to clear it
but have to keep playing, keep playing
to reach that endnote of beauty

forgive me, I'm off key again

i am a fake Irish

Just realised that I spelled "whisky" the Scottish and not the Irish way in my last post. Shame on me. Nothing against Scotland, but I harbour a secret desire to be Irish.

Found a book about Ireland in a flea market today, published in 1957. I will probably read it eventually, but right now I just enjoy looking at the old pictures. Pictures of an Ireland that I never knew. Yet so familiar.

But I'm trying to survive Finland. This time of the year it is so dark and wet and miserable. An excuse to wear fake fur and bright colours, and to light candles and spend evenings on the sofa eating chocolates while I dream of hot whiskey by a smoky fire somewhere in the Irish mountains.

we work while God is playing pool

December 1st. A good day for arriving late at work, a Monday morning, and still find that even busy Christmas shoppers can make you smile. That searching for hard-to-find books and struggling with a credit card machine and talking to someone I used to laugh at 8 years ago is just what I needed today.

All is not lost, as I thought yesterday. Then, I decided that I am a hopeless case and that God is off drinking whisky and playing pool in a bar somewhere where women are not welcome.